The Cross Check Cage
by sheba6086
Summary: As if coping with the terms of Eric's renegotiated marriage contract wasn't enough to keep her stressed, Sookie is once again called upon to help the Shreveport wolf pack solve a serious problem with potentially far reaching implications.
1. Chapter 1

To my beta and source of encouragement for this story, the lovely NorthmanMaille, I am ever indebted.

As always, I am grateful for the generosity of Charlaine Harris, who allows us to check out characters from her library and play with them for a while.

_**The Cross Check Cage**_

_**Chapter 1**_

Someone banging on her front door startled Sookie out of her sound sleep. "It's my day off," she complained to no one as she rubbed her eyes and stretched. She glanced at the bedside alarm clock. 8:22. "You have got to be kidding me."

She climbed out of bed and reached for her robe. This better be good, she thought as she headed toward the door. Her mind was racing through a list of reasons to be angry at whomever she found on the front porch this early. She yanked the door open, ready to make somebody sorry for waking her up on her day off.

"Sookie, I'm real sorry to drag you out of bed. I know you're off today, but I promised Jannalyn I'd come talk to you first thing this morning."

"Sam?" She wasn't sure why it came out like a question, except Sam rarely came to her house and never without calling first. He looked like hell. He obviously hadn't slept. "What's wrong with Jannalyn?"

Sam shifted his weight from one leg to the other and continued in apologetic tones. "She wanted me to come out here last night, but it was late when she called so you wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway, and I wasn't sure if you'd be here or not. Then if you were here, I didn't know if Eric would be with you. I figured he wouldn't want to hear about Alcide, so I–"

"Alcide?" she interrupted. She was tired and he was jittery so his thoughts were even murkier to her than usual. "What about Alcide? Is he all right? What's going on?"

"According to his girlfriend he just up and disappeared. Sookie, you think it would be okay if I came in and sat down for a few minutes while we talk?"

He was so tired he looked like he might fall over any second. You didn't need to be a mind reader to see that, but it would have been helpful to be awake. Gran's years of social hospitality training slapped Sookie in the back of the head and she kicked into gear.

"Of course, Sam," she sputtered, holding the door open with one hand and her robe closed with the other. "You go on into the kitchen and have a seat. I'll get dressed and come make some coffee while you tell me what's up."

Sookie quickly slipped into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, then trotted into the kitchen. Sam had just flipped the switch to turn the coffee pot on when she entered the room.

"I thought I'd save you some time," he said as he slid the coffee canister back into its place under the cabinet.

"Thanks," Sookie responded with a smile.

"Least I can do after dragging you out of bed." Sam took a seat at the kitchen table.

Sookie opened the cabinet and took out two mugs. None of Gran's dainty cups and saucers would do this morning. This was definitely a mug situation. "Don't worry about that. Tell me about Alcide disappearing," she said, placing the mugs, two spoons and the sugar bowl on the table before heading to the fridge for milk.

"As far as I know, there's not much to tell really. Vicki says they were-"

"Vicki?"

"Alcide's new girlfriend. Jannalyn says they've only been going out for a few weeks."

"Oh." Sookie filled a small ivory colored creamer with milk and put it on the table next to the sugar bowl. She sat down in the chair closest to the counter where the coffee was about halfway through brewing.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "The full moon fell on this past weekend, and so Alcide and Vicki decided to go up to Rocky Mountain National Park, near Denver, for the change. They got separated sometime before dawn on Sunday. Vicki howled, but he didn't answer. She followed his scent, but it stopped in the middle of a clearing."

"What do you mean, it stopped?"

"Vicki says it just ends, like he got to that spot and just vanished."

"Or flew away," Sookie whispered, her eyes roaming absently around the table as the cogs in her head began to spin.

"Alcide is a full blooded were, not a shifter. He's a wolf, Sookie, he can't just decide to turn into a bird." Sam sounded as if he might be a bit offended by Sookie ascribing Sam's skills to Alcide.

"Birds and shifters aren't alone in the sky at night, Sam."

"You think vamps might have taken him? Why? Has Eric said something about somebody having it in for Alcide? Or do you think he might have done it in a jealous rage?"

"Oh good grief!" Sookie huffed. "Why are all the men in my life such children? Eric was with me all night Sunday and any raging hormones didn't have anything to do with jealousy."

Sam looked properly ashamed of himself. Sookie thought he might have even turned slightly pink.

Rather than punish him further, Sookie kept talking. "I have no idea why anyone would want to take him, but people, or wolves, don't just disappear into thin air. If his scent stops in the middle of the woods and he isn't in that spot, he got moved, by his own power or someone else's. I can't imagine him abandoning a date if he was operating under his own power. So I think we have to assume he was snatched by someone.

"I don't even know how many humans it would have taken to capture him, but there's no way Vicki could have missed their scent. All the two natured would have shifted for the full moon, so it couldn't have been them. That leaves vampires. They had to have been in the trees and swooped down to grab him or something. There's no other way, is there? I mean, not without Vicki actually being involved somehow." Sookie looked at Sam and was able to clearly read him for the first time since he arrived. That's why he was here. Jannalyn wanted her to talk to Vicki.

Sookie got up and got the coffee pot, bringing it back to the table and filling their mugs. "Well?" she said, looking back over her shoulder at Sam as she returned the pot to the machine. "Go ahead and ask."

"I guess you know the question?"

Sookie plopped back down and sighed heavily. "Can you bring her here or do I have to go to Shreveport?"

"I'm sure Jannalyn won't have any problem bringing her here," Sam said, his voice filled with relief. "Would tonight be alright?"

"Why wait until tonight?" Sookie asked after taking a big gulp of her coffee.

"Vicki tried going to the police, but she doesn't think they believed her. The effort only ended up making her miss her return flight for Monday afternoon. She called Jannalyn next and Jannalyn was furious she didn't get the first call. Vicki was hysterical so Jannalyn made her new flight arrangements, but nothing else was available for Monday. She's coming in today. She may have already left Denver by now and then she has a layover in Dallas for a couple hours. When she gets in Jannalyn will want to talk to her first."

"Sam, I can't always read weres very clearly. If Jannalyn scares her out of her wits and muddles her head up even worse, I might not be able to get a thing from her."

"I'll ask Jannalyn to go easy on her until you've had your chance."

Sookie couldn't help but notice Sam said he'd _ask_ Jannalyn, not _tell_ her. Sookie had the feeling there weren't many people who could _tell_ Jannalyn anything, and one of them apparently vanished in the middle of a Colorado forest a little over twenty-four hours ago.

She took another gulp of coffee. It was going to be a long day.

Sam left shortly after agreeing to let her know as soon as he found out when Jannalyn would be arriving with Vicki. Sookie barely had time to refill her mug before Dermot came bouncing into the kitchen.

"Good morning, niece," he said cheerfully as he made his way to the cabinet to get himself a cup and saucer. In Dermot's mind there was no excuse for failing to observe proprieties, regardless of circumstance. "I see your early morning visitor has gone."

"You knew perfectly well he was gone," Sookie scolded, resuming her seat at the table. "Otherwise you wouldn't have come out yet." She looked up at him, her eyes daring him to contradict her.

Dermot grinned and gave her a slight nod. "You know me well, despite our short acquaintance.

"I'm a quick learner," she laughed.

Dermot poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Sookie at the table; where he added enough sugar to his cup to sweeten the entire pot. "So does your boss often come to your home seeking favors when your husband is away?"

"It isn't polite to listen in on other people's conversations," she said. She took a sip from her mug and added, "besides, my husband is away or asleep more than he's here. If I could only have company when Eric was in the room, I'd never have any."

There was no missing the grain of melancholy that edged her voice lately whenever she spoke of Eric.

She tried to be grateful for the deal Felipe negotiated to get Eric out of his arranged marriage with Freyda, the Queen of Oklahoma. And she was grateful Eric hadn't been forced to give her up and marry the Queen. But Freyda hadn't been willing to relinquish all her claims on Eric completely.

Freyda professed her decision to marry Eric in the first place was mostly due to Appius having convinced her of Eric's ability to inspire fear and obedience in those who fell under his authority. As it happened, she had great need of someone who possessed that very skill.

Appius was determined to raise Eric's (and by extension his own) position in the vampire social hierarchy. The marriage had been the one point Appius adamantly refused to negotiate. There could be no arrangement unless Eric being crowned was the centerpiece.

With Appius dead, Freyda was more than happy to renegotiate when Felipe approached her.

She had no burning desire to force a man who didn't want her into a marriage he wanted even less. Especially since the woman he actually did want was a human. She was only too pleased to spare herself that particular humiliation. However, she had absolutely no intention of releasing him from the one clause in the contract, which was always the non-negotiable issue in her mind.

She needed a manager for her ice cage tournament team. The team's previous manager met the true death last year in an unfortunate run in with some members of The Fellowship of the Sun. She was convinced Eric was exactly the vampire to replace him and she would brook no refusal on the subject.

In the end, the marriage contract was annulled in lieu of a binding employment agreement. Eric would be her team manager with a salary comparable to his Fangtasia earnings, for a period of ten years and at the end she would have the option to renew for an additional ten years.

To do the job Eric must be in Oklahoma City, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights as well as attend all the team's games, which took place every other Friday during the six-month season.

It wasn't a particularly happy arrangement but at least it didn't demand to choose his personal relationships for him. He and Sookie were still together. By vampire law they were still married. They didn't need to be discreet and Eric didn't have to perform any personal services for the Queen … and all it cost them was twenty years. A helluva deal! Every time Sookie felt herself getting down about their position, she reminded herself of the alternative. Yes, this was difficult, but she could stand it. She couldn't have borne having to sit quietly by and suck it up as Eric disavowed her and walked away into the arms of another woman.

She was suddenly aware she had drifted off into her own thoughts and lost rack of the conversation. "I'm sorry," she said, refocusing on Dermot and offering what she hoped was a charming smile. "What were you saying? I got distracted for a sec."

"Much longer than a second, Sookie." The smile he returned to her was charming as well, and filled with the compassion and understanding of one who has known many sorrows and lived to tell the tales. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "I wasn't saying a thing. I was waiting for you to return from your introspection."

"Tha- uh, I appreciate that, Uncle Dermot. I'm back now."

He patted her hand and stood up. "Good, then I'd like to comment on something you said to the shifter." He walked to the counter and returned with what was left in the coffee pot. He poured some in his cup and emptied the pot into Sookie's mug. "You said all the men in your life were like children."

"You are all like children sometimes," she groaned. "I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings when I said it, but it's true and I have too many other things on my mind right now to argue about it."

"Argue?" Dermot asked as he retook his seat. "Why would we argue over you speaking the truth? Sookie, sometimes the things you say make no sense at all."

He was genuinely confused but he plowed ahead just the same. "I merely wanted to make a suggestion. Never underestimate the purity or ferocity of the love and loyalty of a child. If your men love you as children would love you, you are cherished indeed. Remember that when you find yourself in need of something to cling to."

He took a sip from his cup and abruptly rose again. "I think I've had enough coffee for now," he announced and headed toward the living room. "I'll leave you to your private reflections."

"Uncle," she called to him.

He stopped and when he turned to her, the grin on his face looked so much like Jason it was almost spooky. There were tears welled in her eyes, but they did not fall, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too!" he sang out, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "It's almost time for the Paula Deen Show and she's doing something rather odd today. I can't wait to see what kind of shoes she uses to make fruit cobbler."

Dermot giggled and continued happily on his way to the living room to turn on the television.

Sookie stared after him in silent disbelief. She didn't have the heart to tell him fruit cobbler had nothing to do with shoes. She'd leave that for Paula Deen to explain. It would probably be less disappointing for him if he got the news in Paula's accent. Besides, she was afraid if she opened her mouth to try, nothing but peals of laughter would come out.

She debated whether or not to make more coffee and decided against it. She took her mug and Dermot's cup to the sink and rinsed them before heading back to her bedroom. She curled up in the stuffed chair by the window with her cell phone and sent Eric a text.

-Alcide has disappeared in Colorado. I don't have many details. Should know more by tonight. Can you think of why vamps might have taken him? I love you and miss you. S—

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

"It makes me very happy when you allow me to be involved in your life, niece."

Sookie smiled, wiped her hands on a damp dishtowel and turned to hug him. "It makes me happy to have you here. It feels good to know I have someone on my side tonight."

"I thought your boss was also your friend?" Dermot questioned, stepping back in order to better read her expression. "Do you doubt his loyalty? Perhaps we should call cousin Claude. He and I together would be more than a match for two weres and a shifter. Even if they all turned on you at once."

"Oh, heavens no," Sookie insisted. "Nobody is going to turn on anybody, especially not Sam. He might feel a little torn if things get tense between Jannalyn and me since he's my friend but he's Jannalyn's boyfriend. Kind of like how I feel when he and Eric are in the same room with me. But I'm sure there won't be any trouble and there's certainly no reason to drag Claude into the middle of things."

The sound of a car crunching slowly up the gravel driveway drew their attention to the window.

"They're here," Sookie said, looking down and smoothing the front of her blouse. "Remember, I'll introduce you to Jannalyn and Vicki as a friend, so call me Sookie, not niece."

"Yes, Sookie," he replied.

She arranged her face into a welcoming smile to mask her nervousness and headed out to the porch, shadowed by Dermot and his grin.

Sam and Jannalyn got out of the front seat of Jannalyn's car in unison, each going directly to the back doors on their respective sides. Jannalyn had been driving. She simply stood next to the door behind the driver's seat. Sam opened the door behind where he'd been seated and offered his hand to the passenger inside.

Vicki was very pretty, probably beautiful in the opinion of many. Her thick light brown hair fell to the middle of her back in bouncing waves. She was taller than Sookie. She had broader shoulders and was of a generally more solid build, yet there was nothing at all masculine about her. Her figure was perfectly proportioned and crowned by a face of delicate features surrounding a pair of almond shaped pale brown eyes.

As soon as Vicki was standing, Sam released her hand. His eyes darted to Jannalyn as if he expected to see a jealous or reproachful expression. There was none. Jannalyn was all business and her business right now had nothing to do with their personal relationship.

Jannalyn hurried around the car so she was first to approach Sookie on the porch. She went straight to work. "Sookie, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice. This is Vicki Nicholson." She nodded in Vicki's direction.

Vicki caught up as Jannalyn was speaking and Sam closed in behind her as if they were afraid Vicki might bolt and run.

An idiotic notion, Sookie thought when she noticed Vicki's stilettos. Couple those heels with the almost hysterical nervousness she was doing a really great job of concealing and it was clear this woman wasn't going to run anywhere without shifting. And she couldn't shift or Sam and Jannalyn would be all over her like a duck on a June bug.

"I'm more than happy to do anything I can to try and help Alcide," Sookie said to Jannalyn before turning her attention to Vicki. There was something very familiar about the woman, though she couldn't place it and she was certain they had never met.

Sookie smiled brightly and extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Sookie Stackhouse. I'm a friend of Alcide's."

Vicki stepped forward and shook the offered hand. "You don't look like a psychic."

"Probably because I'm not," Sookie responded with as much lightheartedness as she could muster. "I'm just plain old Sookie. Sometimes I can see or hear other people's thoughts, that's all."

"That must be a handy skill," Vicki quipped. She didn't believe yet.

Vicki's thoughts seemed muddled for the few seconds she was speaking, but the moment she stopped, Sookie saw why and couldn't help but giggle. Everyone assumed Sookie was giggling at Vicki's comment, which was good. Sookie would rather no one know what made her laugh.

Vicki was causing the confusion in her mind intentionally, or at least she was trying. She was reciting her ABCs over and over to herself in her head. When she tried to keep doing it while she was doing something else at the same time, like talking, she got confused. Thus Sookie saw confused and muddled thoughts.

"I find the handiest skills are usually the simplest," Sookie smirked. "You know, like being able to tie a pretty bow or say your ABCs forward or backward."

Sookie looked Vicki square in the eye. Vicki had gotten to 'T' on her first backward run through before Sookie's words stopped her cold. Vicki's mind was crystal clear now and it was screaming, _oh my God, she's for real, what if she finds out?_

Vicki felt as if she was going to throw up.

Sookie placed a hand on Vicki's back and nudged her forward toward the front door. "Let's all go on inside. Vicki, you come with me. The powder room is just down the hall." Sookie led Vicki to the bathroom off the hall, with Jannalyn right on their heels.

Vicki didn't vomit, but when she came out of the bathroom it was now plain to everyone she was a nervous wreck. That would have been bad enough, since Vicki's sudden jitters were making Jannalyn more suspicious by the minute, but there was more. Sookie remembered why Vicki looked so familiar.

"You're Victoria Nicholson." Sookie whispered, almost as if she disbelieved her own words.

Victoria Nicholson was a model and former Miss Louisiana. There was a scandal three or four years ago when she and her then boyfriend were in a car accident. The boyfriend was drinking and they drove off an embankment, into a tree. He died in the hospital a couple of days later. His family demanded an investigation, but Vicki claimed to have no memory of the accident its self. They were driving down the road, then the next thing she knew she was crawling up the embankment trying to get back to the road.

It was Sookie's turn to feel queasy, her eyes locked on Vicki. She wasn't trying to read anything. She was bound up in her own thoughts. They were driving, then they weren't, but she didn't remember. They were running, then he vanished and she was alone, but she didn't see or hear or smell anything. It was definitely unsafe or at the very least unlucky to be Victoria Nicholson's boyfriend and be alone with her.

Vicki felt her knees begin to buckle and she swayed left nearly careening into the wall. "Oh God! I'm going to faint."

Sookie snapped out of it and grabbed Vicki around the waist. "No you're not. You're just scared. Don't be. You have nothing to be afraid of here."

Jannalyn swung around and glared directly into Vicki's face. "So long as you had nothing to do with whatever happened to Alcide," she hissed.

"I didn't!" Vicki wailed, slumping against Sookie for support. "I couldn't! I don't know what happened to him! He was in front of me and then he just wasn't any more!" She looked back and forth desperately between Jannalyn and Sookie. "You have to believe me."

Jannalyn took a step closer. Her face was mere inches from Vicki's. When she spoke, her words came out in such tangled snarls Sookie was barely able to understand them. "I don't know what kind of charms you think you have, but you don't do a damned thing for me, sweetheart. You didn't have a car wreck with some hot to trot college jock this time around and I'm not someone so overcome with grief I'll accept whatever the police say without knowing every detail of what happened. I'm not interested in what you don't remember or don't know or didn't see. I want everything and I'll have it or you'll wish I did."

"There you are, ladies." Dermot seemed to materialize in the hall beside Jannalyn. He put a hand gently on her shoulder and continued. "Sookie was terribly remiss in not making proper introductions before running into the house. I'm Dermot Brigant, a very old friend of the Stackhouse family. I believe you must be Sam's lady friend, Jannalyn?"

"Yes, hello," she huffed before stalking into the living room and throwing herself down in a chair.

The tension was temporarily broken and Dermot was near bursting with pride. He offered Vicki a dazzling smile along with an extended hand. "I missed your name, but if I'm not mistaken I've seen your picture on a billboard in Monroe."

Vicki looked as if her eyes might bug out of their sockets to make room for her brain to explode.

Sookie spoke up. "Dermot, this is Vicki Nicholson. Vicki, my friend Dermot."

Vicki dropped a limp hand into Dermot's. "How do you do?" she squeaked.

"I do exceptionally well most of the time," Dermot said, casually slipping an arm between the two remaining women. "Sookie, please allow me to escort your guest into the living room. I took the liberty of bringing in a tray of iced tea and cookies."

"That was nice of you," Sookie said as she stepped aside and headed to join Sam and Jannalyn.

Dermot turned his attention back to Vicki. "Do you like oatmeal raisin cookies? Sookie and I baked them ourselves earlier today. They turned out very well. Sookie wanted to use her Grandmother's recipe, but I insisted we use Paula Deen's. Do you watch the Paula Deen show?"

Vicki had no idea what to think or how to respond. This turn of events was just too strange for her comprehend. She silently allowed her odd baker rescuer to lead her into the living room with the others.

Sookie was serving tea and cookies to Sam and Jannalyn who were both installed in chairs. Dermot seated Vicki in the center of the sofa and he sat at her left side, leaving the space to her right for Sookie.

"I don't know what you want me to do!" Vicki almost cried after Sookie handed her a glass of iced tea.

"You don't have to do a thing," Sookie said softly. "Just think about Alcide."

Sookie poured herself a glass of tea and sat down as she stirred in some sugar. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she looked over to Vicki. "No!" she said a little too loud. "Sorry, I mean, don't think of that. We don't really need to know everything quite that literally." Sookie saw Vicki turned bright pink and Dermot put a hand over his mouth to hold in a laugh. "Try thinking of the last time you saw Alcide. Then the last sound you remember hearing from him. Things like that." You can close your eyes. It might help you concentrate."

Sam was attempting to seem a part of the furniture, but Jannalyn made no such pretext. She was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, eyes boring into Vicki.

Vicki took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes. Sookie watched as Vicki recalled the events leading up to Alcide's disappearance Sunday night. It was pretty much exactly as Sam first described it to her. At one point Alcide had caught and eaten some little squirrel like animal. That was a new detail and kind of gross, but it didn't seem likely to be helpful in any way.

Alcide was in the form of his massive gray wolf. He seemed happy. He was teasing and playful. He ran ahead like he was inviting a game of chase, and Vicki never saw him again. For a few seconds she could hear his paws crunching on the ground, then nothing. The sound stopped. Everything stopped and he was gone. She tried to run after him. She tried calling for him. She tried tracking him. Nothing worked.

Sookie leaned back in the sofa to think.

"Well?" Jannalyn demanded.

Vicki's eyes flew open and she stared at Sookie.

Sookie took in a breath. "She's telling the truth."

Vicki exhaled for what seemed like the first time all day as relief flooded through her body.

Jannalyn turned her fury toward Sam. "You and Alcide both put too much stock in her."

"Settle down now," Sam said calmly. "She can't get information if it isn't there."

"It has to be there!"

"But it isn't, Jannalyn," Sookie added. "I wish it was, but it just isn't. She honestly doesn't know."

"She's fooling you! Just like she fooled everybody four years ago. She's a serial killer, that one."

The tears welled in Vicki's eyes began to roll down her face, leaving multicolored streaks of eye shadow and mascara in their wake. Sookie considered the possibility Vicki was able to hide the truth from her. It was possible, she supposed. Anything was possible.

Then she had an idea. She pivoted in her seat so she was facing Vicki. She reached over and placed a hand on Vicki's knee hoping the physical contact would help keep Vicki's thoughts clear to her. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

Vicki sucked in hard and began to tremble ever so slightly. "Why would you ask me that?" Her voice was filled with fear. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything other than that night, but ultimately there was only one place for her mind to go.

Sookie didn't respond. She remained focused on Vicki and her thoughts, which were tumbling through a high-speed version of the car accident with the college boy. She lied to the police. She did remember, then just as now. Whether she liked it or not she was remembering everything for Sookie, everything she had never forgotten.

Vicki was sobbing now. She didn't want to remember, especially not with someone else tagging along as she did. Her long held secret would be out now and there was no knowing what would happen with it. She might be in a jail cell before dawn.

The boy was drunk and he wanted to keep drinking. He wanted to go to a party a few miles away, but Vicki was trying to talk him into going back to his apartment. He was insisting on the party. He kept slapping the steering wheel and Vicki had to keep prying his hands away from … the wheel. Vicki was driving, not the boy.

Sookie looked up into Vicki's eyes. The fear in them made sense now. She was afraid of having her lie exposed. Neither of them had been wearing seat belts. She'd been thrown from the car and he was tossed around inside. It was his car, so everyone simply assumed he was driving. It was his fault they crashed so she never made any attempt to correct the assumptions.

Sookie got up and walked over to Jannalyn. "I can tell you absolutely, Vicki had nothing to do with Alcide's disappearance. I've seen the worst thing she's ever done. Alcide never did her any harm. If she had done anything to him or helped anyone else do anything to him, or even known about it, it would be something far worse than what she feels most guilty about."

"What did she do?" Jannalyn asked.

"It doesn't matter," Sookie answered, "and it's none of our business. The important thing is it didn't involve Alcide."

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Eric had always enjoyed watching the ice cage tournaments, and the often-lavish receptions held after the games, though he'd never been a particularly ravenous fan. If there was to be a serious battle, he infinitely preferred being a direct participant rather than a bystander. If the battle was not serious enough to warrant his taking an active part, he found it difficult to be anything more than mildly interested. Of course there were those vampires who used the violence of the ice cage games in much the same way humans did porn. They found it exciting, the bloodier the better. It glutted them with lust. Eric never required the assistance of such flagrant aphrodisiacs. His predilections were, for the most part, of a more subtle nature.

The game was a sort of almost anything goes, gladiator style hockey, played with revisions designed to foster and reward violence. The playing surface was a regulation hockey rink covered by a domed silver cage. The cage was necessary because the majority of the players were not wholly willing combatants.

Players were almost exclusively weres and shifters. Vampires were allowed, but only if they were handicapped sufficiently to mitigate the unfair advantage of their superior strength and speed. Like the famous Las Vegas fighting pits, most players were acquired from among those being held in dungeons for some crime against a vampire or those unfortunate enough to be unable to repay a debt to one. Sentences and other obligations were exchanged for service in the cage, often regardless of any agreement being reached.

Anyone tempted to refuse their cooperation soon realized this was not the course to take if they had any desire to remain among the living or undead. They would be forced into the cage, where they would play _and play well_ or suffer the consequences; which could be deadly. Players were on their own within the cage, left to defend the puck and their lives, however they could.

There were four referees, but rather than stop the game for penalties, the officials kept an infraction log. They recorded the penalty and the player who made it. No record was kept of who drew the offence. In fact, few even noticed such things, unless a penalty actually caused a player's death; in which case the game was halted to clear away the corpse. This resulted in the immediate assessment of a ten-minute misconduct penalty for the offending team. The team with the dead player was then permitted to double substitute during the penalty time. This was the only situation where a team could legally have seven players on the ice. More than one close game had descended into chaos after such an assessment. Of course, most vampires in attendance remembered these as some of the best ice cage tournaments ever.

When the game was over, the referees threw out the penalty list for the winning team, then got together to compare notes and submit a list of agreed upon infractions of the losing team. The list was given to the losing coach, who was to pass it along to their monarch. The King or Queen then decided on an appropriate punishment for the offenses and the meting out of said punishment was usually the centerpiece of the entertainment at the losers' reception later that night. Thus the incentive to win by any means necessary was high, and so was the average number of penalties.

Eric stood at center ice watching as his team went through their stick speed drills. He'd been advised against going onto the ice, but he chose to ignore it. In his opinion the players needed something more than avoiding being beaten half to death to make them better players.

Threats of violence would make them more vicious and want to avoid losing … but offering them the opportunity to _accidentally_ take a shot at him would make them want to become more proficient. The team would want to be more accurate with their shots on goal. Just as important, even if they didn't realize it yet, it would compel them to work on improving their ability to avoid being caught taking a penalty. A player couldn't be punished for an offense the referees couldn't attribute to him.

The Oklahoma team was comprised of a fairly impressive line-up of individual players. Eric was tasked with getting them to play together as a team. They'd only been under his leadership a relatively short time, but already they were showing improvement.

Upon taking the position of manager, Eric's first official act had been to pull center Dolph Crassodon in for a private meeting.

Dolph was one of only two ice cage players who actually had experience playing professional hockey. He was the jewel in what Queen Freyda hoped would be her ice cage championship crown. She considered the night Dolph Crassodon got drunk and staked a vampire in Tulsa to be one of the luckiest in her three hundred year life.

When Dolph was brought into the office Eric was struck right away by his size. He was a good deal smaller than Eric expected. He stood just shy of five foot ten and probably didn't weigh more than a hundred–sixty-five pounds. He was muscular, but not overly so. Eric had seen him play several times and his imposing abilities created the illusion of imposing stature. Even vampires could be surprised when their eyes played tricks on them.

"You appear larger on the ice," Eric stated after dismissing the guards so they were alone in the room.

"Skates will do that," Dolph replied without moving. A heavy metal chair was brought in before him and his hands and feet were shackled to it.

Eric smiled. "You are spirited. That's good. How long have you been playing in the ice cage tournaments?"

"Anything to keep you and yours happy, boss." Dolph twisted uncomfortably in his chair. "Fourteen months. I've been in the cross check cage sixteen times. Five wins, eleven losses."

"The cross check cage?"

"It's what the players call the games since anything goes. You can grab your stick in both hands and cross check a man until his brains spill onto the ice and the refs won't stop the game unless the guy dies."

"I see," Eric answered, leaving the remarks about game violence without comment. "Eleven losses come with a lot of pain. I want to improve your record." He stood and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Dolph. "Shall I remove the chains?"

Dolph let out a booming laugh. He wasn't sure what game this new vamp was playing, but he wasn't playing along.

"Is it the chains or the question you find so amusing?" Eric asked in a calm quiet voice.

Dolph squinted upward, examining Eric's face for signs of sarcasm or imminent cruelty. The implacable expression revealed nothing. "You offering to help me escape?"

"I'm trying to help you escape being punished for losing quite so often. If your only interest is escaping this building, I'm afraid you will need to seek help elsewhere."

Dolph held his hands palms up. Eric stepped forward and unlocked the shackles, allowing them to crash to the floor.

The sound brought the vampire stationed outside the door bounding into the room. Dolph remained seated, rubbing his wrists as the guard stood gaping at the loosed chains.

After allowing the guard to stand there looking foolish for a few seconds, Eric said to him, "As you can see, there is nothing here to merit you bursting through doorways. If I should find myself in need of assistance to keep one young wolf leashed, I will notify you at once. In the mean time, have a tray of food and drink sent in for Mr. Crassodon. We have much to discuss and I do not wish for him to miss his dinner."

The guard nodded and retreated from the office, closing the door behind him.

Eric returned to his seat, folded his hands in his lap and looked across the desk at Dolph. "My name is Eric Northman," he said after a brief pause. You may address me as sir, Mr. Northman, my lord or simply Eric. Never boss."

"Understood," Dolph replied, still attending his sore wrists.

Eric ignored the fact Dolph did not directly address him at all. Temerity was a valuable trait in a warrior and Eric suspected Dolph was a good warrior, a warrior worthy of respect. "And you prefer to be called?"

"I liked the sound of Mr. Crassodon," Dolph said with a smug grin, bringing his hands to rest on the hard arms of the chair.

"Very well."

That took Dolph by surprise and the grin evaporated. Neither Eric's tone nor demeanor had varied one iota since the beginning of the conversation, leaving Dolph unable to judge his mood. This was more than a little unnerving. "But Dolph will do," he added.

"Dolph, I need you to help me make Oklahoma a winning ice cage team."

"Why should I care if Oklahoma has a winning team?" Dolph asked. The smugness was gone, but there was still plenty of defiance in him.

"You shouldn't," Eric answered bluntly, but still with no inflection to his words. "Do you have a woman?"

Dolph felt his spine involuntarily go stiff and his fingers try to dig into the cold steel of the chair's arms. Was this vampire threatening Tóu Láng? Did he even know she existed? How could he? She was still in Vancouver, wasn't she? She hadn't come to Oklahoma with him, so she hadn't been there when he staked that vamp a year and a half ago. Thinking of Tóu Láng was the only thing in Dolph's life more painful than the losing punishments. Thinking of her was also what gave him the strength to survive. Dolph remained silent but his breathing had quickened.

Eric had all the answer he needed. "How many scars will her fingertips count when next she holds your body through the night? You _should_ care about that. Unless of course you enjoy the receptions after a losing game, in which case I'll leave you to them and select another player for Captain." He leaned back and waited for a response. He didn't have to wait for long.

"I don't expect to ever feel those fingertips again."

Dolph was taken aback by the pain and sadness he heard in his own voice. He felt his anger flare at his traitorous vocal chords. Now was not the time to be betrayed by his feelings.

Eric registered Dolph's every movement, every flicker of flesh; every change of tempo in his heartbeat; every falter in his timbre. Bringing up the woman was the fatal blow. He would have to find out who she was. If mentioning her in the abstract elicited this much response, a direct threat would no doubt get whatever he wanted from the man. Conversely, if Dolph was cooperative and successful, a conjugal visit might make for a much appreciated reward.

"Our expectations and our realities are not always the same, Dolph. Do you want to continue our meeting or shall I have the guards return you to your cell?"

Dolph chose to stay. He and Eric discussed the team in great detail, strengths and weaknesses, player by player, until after four in the morning. Eric made no further mention of the woman. There was no need. She'd done her job for now. She'd motivated Eric's new ally.

The improvements in the players were noticeable almost immediately. They ran drills every day and every night now, with the exception of the nights of the full moon; speed drills, stick handling drills, passing, puck control, and teamwork.

Despite their efforts, they lost their next game. This was Eric's opportunity to show the team the advantages of continuing to work hard, continuing to improve and above all continuing to follow his commands willingly.

Freyda was as disappointed as ever with the loss until Eric pointed out they managed to hold New York to only two goals and they only lost by one. Her team had never scored against New York in the past and always lost by at least four.

Putting this spin on the loss placated her enough to agree to a change in the public punishment. Rather than lashing or scourging, there would be one on one pit fights. Not to the death, naturally, because Eric couldn't be deprived of his players. Until one or the other was good and bloodied should be sufficient for the amusement of her guests. She could even allow wagering on the outcomes.

Eight men fought that night and only one was seriously injured, as opposed to thirty being lashed into unconsciousness and requiring all manner of medical attention to keep them alive for the next game.

Three days later, when he came out of his coma, even the injured man acknowledged how much better off they were as a group.

The drilling went on under Eric's ever-watchful eye, or not, night and day, whether he was in Oklahoma or Louisiana. That was the part of the plan he didn't share with anyone, not even Sookie. Get them to work his plan with or without him present. Demonstrate to Queen Freyda he is such an indomitable leader he could be just as effective spending even less time physically in Oklahoma. If she would give him one more night a week; even one night every other week, it would be worth all this effort and wrangling with weres and shifters. It would be one more night in Sookie's bed, feeling her warm flesh wrapped around him, a prize worth any exertion.

He watched pucks flying past his feet, back and forth at lightning speed. How strange the pucks could move so quickly when time in Oklahoma crept by at a snails pace. It was only Tuesday. Thursday night couldn't arrive soon enough to suit him.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

The calendar gave way to Thursday at last and Sookie stood anxiously at the closet door waiting for Eric to emerge. Was it really only four nights since she'd felt him? It seemed an eternity since they were last together. The stress of the last few days was wearing on her. She needed the comfort and relief only Eric's arms could give her.

It was funny how their separations rarely seemed long at all before the Queen of Oklahoma entered their lives. Even when they went two weeks or more without seeing one another, it had always been so easy to simply pick up where they left off and resume their relationship.

Now it was as if some great threat dangled precariously over them all the time. There was a constant sense of urgency to every moment they had together. They were no longer the masters of their own destiny. They had been stripped of the luxury of such control. They were ever acutely aware; each minute could be their last; each kiss; each glance.

When the door, which guarded the light tight cubby, opened at last, Eric stepped into her waiting embrace without hesitation, instantly taking her in his arms and lifting until her lips met his.

They had no need for words, not now, not yet. Theirs was the language of touch and their caresses spoke volumes.

When the sun had been less than two hours gone and his lover lay nestled spent and happy beside him, Eric asked his familiar question. "Are there any new emergencies I should be aware of before I contact Pam?" It was always his hope for Sookie to declare herself bored beyond belief. He had yet to have this particular hope satisfied.

"No one has heard from Alcide," she said, snuggling closer to him. Though his body offered no warmth, his very proximity was a comfort of its own.

As soon as Eric was released from his marriage contract, he and Sookie reformed their blood bond, but for some reason it didn't seem quite as intense as before. Eric blamed Amelia, and if truth be told, Sookie did too. They both believed there must have been something in the spell to break the original bond preventing it from being reestablished to its former strength.

"And the new woman has remembered nothing else of any value?" Eric asked.

"I don't think she ever really new anything of any value," Sookie answered. "At least not about Alcide disappearing. When I looked into her, I saw exactly what she was saying. They were running through the woods. Alcide was ahead. Then Vicki suddenly lost his scent. It just ended in a small clearing. She stopped and called out to him but he didn't answer. She circled back to try and find the scent again, but when she couldn't she got scared and went back to their hotel. When he didn't come back by morning she went to the police. She called Jannalyn later Monday afternoon."

Eric considered all she said before responding. "You have again proven yourself to be a true friend of the Shreveport pack. I am certain it was a great relief to Jannalyn to be assured of this woman's truthfulness."

"She would have rather been assured Alcide was safe," Sookie said from under his arm.

"Given the choice, my lover, I believe most of us would rather have circumstances different from those we are allotted."

The grim bitterness, which had crept into his voice, drew an immediate response from Sookie. His thoughts had clearly left Alcide and moved on to them. She squeezed him tight and gently kissed his side.

"We all do the best we can with what we have," she whispered. "Poor Alcide and Vicki, they don't even have each other to hold onto."

Eric couldn't help but smile. How could he have possibly continued existing if he had been denied access to the rare creature at his side? While she lived, he would have her. She never failed to provide him light, no matter how dark and despairing the depths of his thoughts became. He pulled her up onto his chest and held her tight. Holding her like this was the closest thing to happiness he'd felt in a thousand years.

…


	2. Chapter 2

To my beta and source of encouragement for this story, the lovely NorthmanMaille, I am ever indebted.

As always, I am grateful for the generosity of Charlaine Harris, who allows us to check out characters from her library and play with them for a while.

_**The Cross Check Cage**_

_**Chapter 2**_

A sharp pain shot from his right hip as he stretched out of a fetal position. There were other pains as well, but the hip screamed loudest. He squinted to open his eyes, just a slit, fully expecting any introduction of light to be unbearable. He needn't have worried on that account. The only discernable light was very dim and seemed to be coming from quite a distance, as if he were deep in a cave.

Alcide tried to gather his wits enough to assess his situation. Unfortunately, the relentless jack hammering in his head, along with his other aches and pains made the effort herculean. Since anything involving movement was out of the question, at least until this grogginess passed, he decided his best bet would be to try and establish as much information as possible from the relative safety of his current position, which was apparently stark naked on the floor of a dark room.

With the exception of his own breathing and pounding heart, he was engulfed by silence. Maybe he was in an abandoned building of some sort? He willed his eyes open wider and made a cursory sweep of the room. The minimal light was coming from far up what had to be a long hallway. He could see nothing in detail and couldn't even determine the size of the space he occupied. Everything was a variation on pitch and shadow, but one thing was unmistakable. Between him and the hallway was a wall of bars. He was a prisoner.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Sookie smiled down at Eric from her perch astride his abdomen. "I've got an idea. Just for tonight, let's pretend we're the only people on Earth. There's no one else to worry about or order us around."

"Or want us dead?" he laughed.

"Especially not that," she agreed, joining his laughter and poking him in the shoulder with her finger.

"I like your plan."

"Great. We're all alone." She lifted both arms over her head and arched her back as she stretched. Her legs tightened against his ribcage as she twisted side to side. "No other people."

His eyes trailed along, following her bare breasts as they moved. "What madness are you talking about?" he whispered, slipping his hands around her waist and quickly reversing their positions. "I do not understand this 'other people' you speak of. I know of only you."

As his face fell onto her breast she felt his fangs drop and pierce the tender flesh to either side of her nipple. The rolling motion of his tongue as he began to suck caused her to gasp for air as waves of goose pimples rippled over her skin. Her hands entwined themselves in his hair as if to hold him there until both his desire and hers were slaked.

"No," she pleaded when at last he raised his head to move from one breast to its twin. Her voice was little more than a raspy whisper as she pulled at him, compelling his lips closer to hers. "I need you … inside me."

His body moved to answer her appeal at once. He kissed her hard and deep as he repositioned himself. By sheer force of will, Eric ignored the urgent demands of his lust, choosing instead to enter her slowly, allowing the friction to linger between them as the mutual giving and receiving of pleasure melded them into one entity. Every thought he had of her inevitably led to a moment identical to this one. It was in this instant his world was a perfect place.

As always, his idyllic picture quickly gave way to their hunger for one another. She urged him to a near frantic pace and he complied with zeal.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Sookie felt the sun on her face before she saw the light. As she opened her eyes and stretched she instinctively glanced over to the side of the bed Eric occupied only a little while ago. The few seconds after waking were the only thing better about sleeping at Eric's house in Shreveport rather than here in Bon Temps.

There was a full sized light tight bedroom at his house. They could sleep together and when she woke he was there, cool and motionless but there. Here, Eric's days were relegated to the cramped cubby off the guest room closet. It was much too small to accommodate them both comfortably, so here at her house she woke alone.

No matter how she tried, she couldn't make herself get used to him being able to leave the bed they shared without her even being aware of him moving. Regardless of how entangled they were when she fell asleep, she woke up with no clue how long she'd been by herself under the covers.

She reached over and touched the place where he had been, inexplicably expecting to feel the residual heat left by his body. There was none to be felt. For a flicker of a second something seemed amiss, and then she laughed at her own foolishness when she realized she was looking for body heat from a vampire.

"First thing I need to do is wake up so I can think straight," she said aloud, her smile still in place. She rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom for a long hot shower.

When she came out of the bathroom she felt rejuvenated and ready to take on the day. She took in a deep breath and was greeted by the aroma of strong coffee. Espresso. _Dermot is here_, she thought.

He had brought the espresso maker from Monroe a couple of weeks ago. Claude received it as a gift and he already owned a better one, so he let Dermot have it. Sookie didn't ask the occasion for Claude to be getting presents and Dermot didn't offer any further explanation.

Dermot slept at Claude's place in Monroe from Thursday to Sunday night to avoid running into Eric. As a half fairy, Dermot's blood was too tempting to vampires for him to risk relying on Eric's will to resist. But even when he slept away, he often showed up here so he and Sookie could spend their mornings together. She got dressed in a hurry and headed into the kitchen.

"Good morning, niece. Shall I make you an espresso?" Dermot's smile was as bright as sunshine.

When he was in a good mood it was infectious. "Please," she answered, taking a seat at the table and pulling one foot up into the chair with her. "Even though there's not much morning left."

"There is never a wrong time for espresso. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," she said. "I seem to be pretty good at sleeping. It's the waking up part I have trouble with."

Dermot heard the blue twinge reflected in her voice. He flipped the machine on and turned the full force of his face to Sookie. "It must be very difficult to go to sleep with someone you care about, then wake up alone," he said. His expression was as sunny as ever, but there was genuine sympathy in his tone.

She smiled and reached out for his hand, which he obligingly placed in hers. She held it as she spoke. "Is there anything about me you don't understand right away?"

"Probably," he responded, giving her hand a light squeeze. "But probably not much.

"So, you are awake, and I am here, and your vampire is tucked safely away until you leave. Will you be coming home tonight?" He gently pulled his hand free and went back to the gurgling espresso.

"Yes. We'll come back late tonight or very early in the morning, depending on whether Oklahoma wins or loses. If they win, the Queen will expect Eric to stay for at least part of the celebration."

Dermot delivered a small china cup of steaming espresso to Sookie. "I understand they celebrate when they lose as well"

"If you can call it that." Sookie shuddered just thinking about the things she'd heard about the losing receptions.

Dermot sat across from her at the table. "Ah, yes. Vampires can be very brutal, it's true, but they did not invent brutality, Sookie." He nudged the sugar bowl and creamer aside so there was an empty space on the table in front of her. "What do you see between my cup and yours?"

"Nothing."

"And what do you suppose you would see if you were looking through a magnifying glass?"

Sookie thought for a moment and said, "I don't think just a magnifying glass would make a lot of difference. Maybe if I had a microscope?"

"No microscope," Dermot said dismissively. "Think of this table as that you call the natural world, the world you lived in before the vampires' Great Revelation. To most of your kind it seems like a massive collision, but it isn't really. You see, the supernatural world is only a magnification of yours, your world seen through a glass. But as you saw with the table, you cannot magnify something unless it is already there."

She thought about Dermot's words for a minute but could find nothing in them to offer her any comfort. "I'm not sure exactly what you mean by what you said, but whatever it is, you can't say it's okay to torture people for losing a game, even if they are criminals."

"I suppose that's true, depending on how you look at it," Dermot conceded, taking a sip of his espresso. "Especially when you consider they are not all criminals."

Sookie froze with her cup suspended inches from her pursed lips. After a second she lowered the cup to its saucer rather than take the intended sip. "I hadn't thought of that. There are probably lots of people in supe prisons and dungeons who haven't done anything wrong at all."

"Oh, thousands, I'm sure," Dermot said, as if it were a given. He wasn't shocked or even surprised by the thought, and he was not sharing Sookie's difficulty drinking at the moment. He looked her in the eye and added, "Just as there are innocent and wrongly convicted prisoners in human prisons, who are used for forced labor and medical experimentation right along with the guilty ones."

Her head was spinning. "I wonder if anyone who is innocent is on Eric's team?"

This was too horrible to think about, but then the thoughts got worse. She looked up and lowered her voice. "Dermot, if there are innocent men on the team, do you think he knows?"

Dermot met her eyes, giving her his full attention and consideration. "What are you asking, niece? Is your chosen husband capable of intentional violence? You know the answer. He came to manhood as a Viking. There are a limited number of ways for that to happen and all involve violence. He is a warrior who has known little of defeat. You've seen him fight. He has killed many and taken many captives. The vast majority of those people were guilty of nothing more than being on the opposing side of a battle. No doubt there has also been torture."

"But the team, Uncle Dermot. Do you believe Eric would make men play that stupid game and then be tortured for losing if he knew they were not guilty of being criminals?" Her patience was growing thin.

"Eric did not simply accept a new job offer in Oklahoma City. He is as much a prisoner as any man on his team and I'm sure the pain he feels during his separations from you is as real to him as any pain felt by those who have lost games. It is difficult to pity someone whose circumstances you see as so similar to your own. As far as guilt or innocence, those are relative terms. Their definitions change from person to person and from hour to hour. I doubt he has given it any thought."

Sookie slumped back in her chair, the weight of this new consideration bearing down on her. Why was it so difficult to make things get better when they could slide from bad to worse so easily? "Why does everything have to be so complicated?" she sighed.

Dermot laughed. "Complicated and different for all. You resent the injustice to the innocent, I marvel at the reasoning of the willing, Claude pities the stolen, and your husband sees past the individuals to greater goals; all very different and all with their own complications."

There was a short lull in the conversation as Sookie brought her hands to her temples and rubbed. She didn't have a headache yet, but she could feel it threatening. Dermot was considering making another round of espresso when he saw Sookie's eyes open wide with alarm.

"Stolen? We were talking about prisoners and the ice cage tournaments and you said 'Claude pities the stolen'. Who is stolen and what does Claude have to do with them?" Sookie asked. Her voice had gone shrill.

"What an interesting tonal quality you are demonstrating, niece, most disagreeable, but interesting."

"Dermot! What stolen?" She slammed her hands, open palmed, onto the table for emphasis.

He cast a longing glance at the espresso maker and decided it would have to wait. He adjusted himself in his chair and spoke. "Last night Claude and I were discussing your unfortunate situation. We both feel your level of inner turmoil would diminish greatly if you were to work more toward embracing your essential spark."

She felt the headache break through the back of her skull. "I asked you a very specific question," she said through gritted teeth, "and it didn't have a thing to do with fairy mumbo jumbo about sparks!"

Dermot was clearly disappointed in the turn the conversation had taken. He crossed his arms and legs, as if condensing his body size would shield him from her wrath. "Claude believes there are players in the ice cage arenas who are not prisoners or willing participants, but who have been quite literally snatched off the street for the purpose of being added to the teams."

"Why would he believe such a thing?" While she was taking comfort in the fact Dermot had said 'Claude believes' as if it was not a commonly held notion; like when someone says, 'my neighbor believes he's being probed by aliens', her headache suddenly began shrieking Alcide's name on a loop.

"Not too long ago Claude had a human lover, of whom he was fond. For some reason the boy began an affair with a werewolf. Of course Claude stopped seeing him as soon as he found out about the affair.

Several months later the boy came to Claude asking for help. He claimed vampires had tried to get his lover to join an ice hockey league they sponsored. The lover declined. The next week the lover didn't come home from work one night and no one saw him again."

"That's it?" Sookie questioned. "What did Claude do?"

"He laughed, of course, and slammed the door in the boy's face, leaving him crying on the porch."

Sookie felt as if she had a horrible hangover. First the headache and now her head was spinning. She held onto the edge of the table to keep the room from turning upside down.

_Oh God. Could Eric be a part of something like that? _There was no need to ask the question out loud. She knew the answer. If Freyda and Felipe made him choose between moving to Oklahoma City permanently to marry Freyda, and kidnapping werewolves so they could be forced to play in the ice cage games, it would have been an easy choice for him. There wouldn't be a single were or shifter over five foot five safe from him, ever.

The implications were too dreadful to think about. Her head was pounding. "I need a drink," she said absently as her brain tried to keep from spinning out of control.

"Excellent!" Dermot exclaimed. His mood was recovering. "I'll make more espresso."

"Could you make mine a gin and tonic?" Sookie had folded her arms on the table in front of her and laid her head face down on top of them. "I need to catch up with my hangover." She didn't see the quizzical expression come over his face.

"Certainly. I can do that."

After what felt like forever Dermot sat her drink on a napkin beside her. Her thoughts were racing so fast, she'd forgotten she even asked for it. One name kept rising above the avalanche of questions and emotions in her mind. Bill. Whether she liked it or not, it was Bill she would have to go to for help. With all the research he'd done and information (both published and, more importantly, unpublished) for his computer program, he was the one most likely to have the answers she needed. Thankfully, Bill was not like Claude. Bill wouldn't leave her crying on the porch out of spite … or at least she didn't think he would. She'd find out as soon as she could. Until then she'd keep this idea to herself.

Even though nothing was settled, with a course of action for her next move formed in her head, her body relaxed and she was able to smile again. She thanked Dermot for the drink, then got up and took it to the sink to dump it out. She and Dermot passed the remainder of the early afternoon with no further discussion of ice cages or prisons.

The shuttle from Anubis arrived precisely at 3:15 to convey Sookie and a sleeping Eric to their flight to Oklahoma City.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

"Felipe sent a messenger," Sookie reported after kissing Eric on the cheek. "He's at the Residence Inn. He wants you to come see him as soon as you have a chance."

He was no happier to hear the message than she was to deliver it. They knew they'd be obliged to spend time with Felipe at some point, but they hoped it would be after the game so they could make their excuses and leave before any punishments began.

"Very well," he said, offering her a smile as he arose from the bed they had both hoped to share before being called upon to do the bidding of others. "I'll see him. Then I'll come back to you, and see if you can put me in a winning mood."

"I wonder if I'll be able to rise to the occasion?" she asked with a wicked grin.

He scooped her off the bed and locked his mouth over hers. When she gasped for breath he released her from his kiss with a laugh. "I have absolute confidence in your ability to cause a rise wherever you choose." A quick peck on her forehead and he disappeared into the walk-in closet. Moments later he was gone.

Eric was admitted through the guarded door of Felipe's suite to find him seated at a work desk in the sitting room of the comfortable yet relatively modest suite. He was alone save for a female vampire in a nearby chair. The woman had a steno pad in her lap and a pen at the ready, as if poised to receive emergency dictation. Eric suspected she was more bodyguard than secretary.

"Eric, my friend," the King said with a smile. "I am pleased you were able to make time to see me before the tournament tonight."

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty. And my time is yours, as always." Eric gave a short bow, sufficient for their informal surroundings. It was always prudent to observe the niceties with Felipe.

Felipe nodded in response. He enjoyed subservience in his subjects, particularly in those older and more physically powerful than himself and the taste of Eric Northman's submission was particularly sweet. The Viking warrior famed for his resistance to any authority but his own owed him a debt, and Felipe always collected. From the Norseman he would be repaid in acquiescence. He would have obedience and once Eric was brought to heel, he might even sample his woman for good measure.

There was something about that human woman of his that made men of several different species lose their wits. Felipe failed to see such an all-consuming attraction. She was pretty to be sure and her gift of telepathy made her a tempting prize. Doubtless she would make a useful possession and Felipe would gladly accept her as such. Perhaps even as a mistress, but never as wife. Especially not with a sitting Queen offered in her stead. To do so was insanity.

"You are here this evening without your charming wife?"

"Your summons did not indicate a wish for me to bring her along. You will see her at the tournament tonight, though I'm sure she would be willing to make herself available if you have need of her services prior to then."

Felipe had no interest in what Sookie Stackhouse was or was not _willing_ to do for him. "No, no," he said, waving a hand back and forth. "I merely wanted to make you aware of a change on my team before you, and she, saw for yourselves."

"Sookie has no special interest in the ice cage games or players. She is not a fan. She attends solely to share my company."

"She is nothing if not an amiable companion, I'm sure. Please, sit," the King said, indicating an armchair beside the desk. Eric sat as Felipe went on. "You may both be interested in this player. As I recall he has been a problem for you in the past."

For some reason Eric thought of Alcide, though he would never have classified Alcide as any kind of real problem or threat. He almost had time to formulate a question before Felipe dropped his bomb.

"John Quinn is trying to dig himself out of debt again. He asked to go back to the pits to earn some money and I offered him a premium to go into the ice cage instead."

Eric's face turned to stone. He barely registered anything after the name. Quinn would be on the ice tonight and Sookie would be there to see. His life was becoming a veritable plague of shifters.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," Eric said with an enthusiasm he didn't feel. "Throwing a big cat into a battle cage with a bunch of wolves will doubtless add to the spectacle of tonight's game."

"Yes," the King replied, his lips curled into an insidious grin, which belied the jovial sparkle in his eyes. "I look forward to watching reaction to the tiger."

"I'm sure tonight's' tournament will be entertaining for all those in attendance. To that end, if you have no further need of me, I will return to the arena to see to last minute preparations."

"By all means, take your leave. Bring Sookie to my box tonight. There is a woman I'd like her to meet."

Felipe turned back to his papers. Eric got up and left, offering a perfunctory nod on his way out.

Eric's mind was a swirling torrent of anger and irritation mixed with new concern for Sookie's safety. He left his car in the parking lot, opting to walk back to the arena. He shook himself, as if to fling some unseen contaminant from his head and shoulders, and lifted his face slightly skyward. He was always able to think more clearly with the wind in his face and if there was one thing you could depend on in Oklahoma City, it was wind.

Watching wolves react to Quinn wasn't what Felipe was looking forward to, it was watching Eric and his charming wife. What a perverse little man Felipe was. Eric found it annoying enough to tolerate the King's petty intrigues from a distance. Being embroiled in them was proving to be insufferable.

Felipe ordered him to bring Sookie to the Nevada viewing box under the pretext of having her read someone, but what Felipe really wanted was to have her close by so he could watch her squirm as she worried about a clash between her husband and Quinn. After the Louisiana takeover, Quinn asked Felipe for Sookie and the King gave his consent. Eric discovered the agreement and arranged to trick Sookie into marriage, thus thwarting Quinn's claim and Felipe's consent to it.

Eric struggled to bury his anger as he wondered how Felipe ever managed to rise to a Kingship. Eric had plans of his own to deal with. He resented being sidetracked by the frivolous revenge scheming of a small-minded Monarch, but if he was Felipe's intended victim tonight, he needed to remain calm. Felipe might be easier to circumvent than many men, but Eric was left with only a nominal window of time to conceive of and implement any counter measures.

The King fancied himself quite a grandiose Monarch. There would be more to his plan than harrying a human woman, and Eric felt certain he knew what it was. He expected Eric to be driven to rash actions by jealousy. He thought Eric would take news of the tiger back to the arena and instruct his team to kill John Quinn.

There was no way of knowing with absolute certainty if Eric was right in his beliefs about Felipe until he saw Quinn on the ice. If he were correct, Quinn would not be a particularly useful player. Quinn would merely be someone Felipe was willing to sacrifice to rattle Sookie and keep Eric in line. If Quinn turned out to have any skill for the game, chances are he was wrong about Felipe's motivations.

Eric considered the possibility he was wrong as he covered the short distance to the arena. No. The likelihood he was mistaken on this point was minimal at best. Confident in his conclusion, he dismissed all thoughts of preparing his team for Quinn being a powerhouse player. Quinn would be as he ever was, large and aggressive but not accomplished at the game. Eric hadn't managed to exist for more than a millennium by misjudging the actions and motivations of other men.

His mind moved on to what would be his most difficult battle of the evening and the one he was most likely to lose. He now wanted Sookie nowhere near the arena tonight. He wanted her to go home. If she stayed, she would be in Felipe's box for the game and Eric couldn't be sure of exactly how Felipe would react when the evening's entertainment didn't play out according to his plan. Eric didn't like unpredictable variables so close to Sookie when he couldn't be near enough to protect her.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Eric told Sookie about his meeting with Felipe and she reacted exactly as he knew she would. She would have no part of leaving. They would face Felipe, Quinn and anyone else, together.

"I will not spend the rest of my life running and hiding from every supe we've ever met who's pissed at us for one reason or another. The list is too long already and it will probably get longer before it gets shorter. We'll just have to come up with something else." She gritted her teeth and held his gaze unflinching, daring him to contradict her, as if she were every inch a match for him.

He knew the look on her face all too well. She wasn't leaving unless he had her bodily removed. She was spectacular when she was like this. If she would only consent, she would make a vampire unlike the world had ever seen. The thought of it forced a smile to his lips. It might have helped him if she'd been able to see his thoughts.

As it was, she only saw the smile. "What's so funny?" she demanded her eyes narrowing as she prepared for a challenge.

"I'm trying to decide if you are the biggest fool I know." He waited for her to draw in a breath in preparation of launching her counterattack. The instant she did, he added, "Or the bravest creature I have ever encountered."

She faltered slightly, but even his admiration wasn't going to throw her off track. "Is there a difference?"

"Not much," he conceded. "In either case, I knew you wouldn't leave." He sat down on the side of the bed, eliminating the need for her to look up at him.

Sookie took the occasion to take a few breaths and think. When she spoke next it was in a much softer tone. "If you already thought about it enough to know I wouldn't leave, then you already have a plan B or you wouldn't have bothered trying to get me to go. You would have just had some vamp carry me off and sit on me until morning."

"You are becoming a strategist, my lover," he said, reaching over and pulling her to him. "Perhaps I should do precisely that." She stood between his legs, draping her hands over his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his forehead between her breasts.

"But you won't, so let's have it," she said. "What's the plan?"

"You won't like it," he replied as he kissed the center of her chest.

"I know."

He looked up to see her face. He saw indulgence … and love.

"You wouldn't try and distract me with kisses if you thought I'd like your idea," she whispered and kissed his upturned forehead. "Spill it."

"I'll need three of your shirts or blouses, plus the one you are wearing now." He let the request dangle on the air between them.

Sookie looked him directly in the eye. "Why?"

"I'm sure you have noticed the large air conditioned fans on each side of the ice."

"The cool down fans, yes," she answered.

The cool down fans were turned on whenever a fight broke out on the ice, or the players threatened to get out of control. They were on hydraulic platforms below ice level and were so massive they blocked the view of quite a few people seated near the rink on each side when one of the managers called for them to be raised. When they were turned on it was like an ice-cold windstorm inside the arena. By the time things reached the point the cool down fans were used, a good many of the players were naked because they had shifted, often more than once. The players were forced to choose between calming down and freezing to death.

_If I was a breather, this is where I would take a deep breath_, he thought. He almost did it just for effect, but he thought better of it. "I want to mount one of your shirts inside each of the fans."

The unwavering stare of his ice blue eyes exposed nothing. She hated it when he got like this. He would answer questions, but not with more information than was directly called for. This had to be the part she wasn't going to like. She drew the deep breath he'd thought about. "Again Eric, why?"

"Felipe is expecting me to cede to my desire to have the tiger killed. By giving me advance notice of Quinn being on the Nevada team, he thought I would instruct my team to dispose of him during the game."

"But you wouldn't do that with me here. Eric! Is that –"

"No," he assured her. "I wanted you to go home to keep you away from Felipe's manipulations, not the cat. You and I have nothing to fear from him, but my team does. I need to have a way to confuse and distract him, to protect my players."

"And my shirts are going to protect your players by … what? By –" When the answer occurred to her, it hit her like a brick. "My scent, Eric?"

He didn't deny it.

"You want to fill an arena full of shifters and vampires with my scent?" She was furious. She slapped him as hard as she could across the cheek and punched him in the chest with both hands as she shoved herself away from him. He made no effort to block her blows or give further answer to her charge.

She was halfway across the room now, but she spun and stalked back toward him. As he braced for the second wave of her attack, she screamed, "Maybe I should give you my panties too! Wouldn't they make it easier if you aim to distract him by making him horny?"

She was hysterical. There was no point trying to make a logical argument now. It would have to wait. He decided to antagonize her just enough to get her to go on and get it out of her system so they could get back to reasonable conversation.

Eric stood and pointedly sniffed in her direction. "While I might enjoy carrying your panties in my pocket as a favor, they would not help me with Quinn at the moment. You are not in estrus. Besides, my aim is to distract and confuse him, not make him tear the cage apart to try and mount you."

The sound leaving her throat was something between a primal scream and a feral growl. She balled her fists and launched herself at him. When he easily caught her and lifted her into a tight embrace, she screamed and kicked until she exhausted herself. It didn't take long. Such passionate fury took an enormous amount of energy to maintain.

When her screams had been reduced to gasping sobs, he sat on the bed and held her in his lap as he whispered into her ear. "I am confident of your physical safety in the arena. You know I would not intentionally endanger you. I have made an intimate request of you and I plan to use it in a public manner. Felipe wants to win this game at any cost. He is willing to send the tiger to what he believes to be certain death in order to gain the advantage. Quinn has doubtless been instructed to provoke my players at every opportunity. He probably doesn't realize he is expected to die. He will be overly aggressive in his effort to draw penalties. My team will want to strike back, but they will have to do so carefully. Quinn will be restrained by no such care. I need him diverted from his plan."

Sookie felt small and violated. "All this for a game," she complained weakly.

"More than the game. He wants to break me and he believes the combination of his winning the game and putting me in the position of causing you public emotional upset will do it for him."

Her crying and self-pity were overridden by curiosity. "But your team has lost games before. Why would this one be so different?"

"Despite not staying for the receptions when we've lost, you are aware of how the penalty phase of the game plays out?"

A cold shiver ran up her spine. She had heard descriptions of the bloody beatings and other gruesome tortures the losing players suffered for the amusement of the spectators during the after game receptions. "Yes," she answered.

"He is my King, Sookie. As such, if I were to publicly offend him in some gross manner; for instance if I were to allow my team to kill one of his players, a newly hired player who was once a popular champion of the pits, he could demand I share the fate of the losing players."

Her curiosity now gave way to terror. She raised her head from his shoulder so they were face to face. "And what happens to the losers when a player is killed?"

"The punishment is left to the discretion of the monarch with the dead player."

"He could order you killed?"

"He could, yes, but it is more likely he would order me humbled, and if he was unable to accomplish this by ordinary means, he could order I be compelled to witness the suffering of someone else."

The shiver in her spine became constant. "Me."

The distant sadness in his eyes was enough to break her heart, but behind them he was seething. He was eager to meet the challenge. Felipe could have him tortured for centuries and he'd still tell them all to go to hell, but all they'd have to do is walk her into the room and Eric would give them whatever they wanted for her sake. She couldn't see that done to him. She smiled for him and ran her fingers along his broad cheekbone before climbing off his lap and heading toward the closet.

She stripped off her T-shirt as she walked. When she reached the closet door she turned and tossed the T-shirt to Eric. "I know there's one blouse in here I've not had dry cleaned since I wore it last, but everything else has been washed. Do I need to put them on for a while first?"

Eric could see she was clinging to her dignity by the most fragile of threads. He wouldn't annoy her now with comments on how striking he found her. It could wait until after the events of the evening passed. "Not necessary," he answered. "Touching them as you remove them from the hangers is sufficient."

"Is my odor that strong from just a touch?" she sniped.

Eric joined her at the closet, lowered his face until her hair surrounded it, and took in a long slow sniff. "Your fragrance is a delight to the senses which defies the words of men," he said softly.

"Hmm," she deadpanned. "Unless you want the fragrance of my vomit on everything, I suggest you back off."

He quickly took two steps backward and held his hands up in front of him in a sign of surrender. "I would prefer to avoid any such unpleasantness," he said apologetically. "I'm not sure the enhancer could overcome it."

Sookie handed him the blouse and reached in for another. "What enhancer?"

"I plan to tie nepeta into the shirts to increase their impact," he answered, lowering his hands and leaning against the wall next to the closet.

"And what is nepeta?" she asked, holding out two tops she'd yanked off their hangers.

Eric's smile was enormous as he took the offered tops. "Catnip, of course!"

He was clearly so pleased with himself, Sookie couldn't help but giggle in response. "This plan is crazy," she laughed. "It might just work."

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Twenty minutes before game time Eric escorted Sookie to Felipe's viewing box, where he kissed her hand and left her after a round of formal introductions during which she was presented to Camille Champagne. Ms Champagne, not her real name, was the woman Felipe wanted her to read.

The doors behind the goal nets at each end of the ice slid open and the two teams filed out, skating around their respective nets and lining up along their blue lines. The announcer's voice boomed through the sound system as he informed the audience the Oklahoma home team was wearing red and visiting Nevada was sporting green.

The announcement referred to the bandanas tightly tied to the players' upper arms. There were no official uniforms since few players made it all the way to the end of a game without shifting, so uniforms weren't useful for identifying players. If a bandana could not be tied tight enough to remain in place through a shift, the players' arm was pierced and the bandana was tied to the piercing.

Quinn did not skate out first for Nevada, Eric noticed. So he clearly hadn't been made Captain. Good. It meant he didn't play well enough to have taken the Nevada team by storm with his arrival.

Three referees lined up on each side of the cage and the two officials took their places on high seats similar to those used by the lifeguards who watch over humans at the beach or a swimming pool. A whistle blew the one-minute warning and players scattered. Most took their place on the bench, leaving the starting line-ups on the ice.

In the cage tournaments, referees did not drop the puck for face-offs. The puck was flung onto the ice from one of several mechanisms built into the boards at varying intervals. The puck could come from any direction, regardless of where the face-off was taking place. No other player could touch the puck before at least one of the two face-off players made contact with it.

Dolph positioned himself at center ice where, as usual, he was dwarfed by the opposing center. His inner timer ticked off the seconds to the opening faceoff. At the last second, he grinned and winked at Nevada's center. The action caused a look of surprise for just a fraction of a second. It was enough. A puck was shot onto the ice toward them and the game was on.

Dolph spun, pirouetting over the other players' stick and slamming the puck to his left wing, who was already moving to meet it.

As the game progressed, Eric watched from his place outside the cage, beside his team's bench. Implacable he stood, his body betraying neither thought nor feeling. He watched. He studied and he missed nothing.

He chose well when he made Dolph Crassodon captain. Even the players who didn't have the will to practice hard and work to make Oklahoma a winning team took pride in helping Dolph improve his personal stats and in making him look good. Whatever their motivation, it was good enough for Eric. He didn't really care _why_ they got better, as long as they got better.

Quinn was as dependably predictable as a pocket watch. Eric wondered if he was a hockey fan or had ever even seen a hockey or ice cage game. Obviously he never played before, at any level. His size made him cumbersome and a little too slow to be overly effective on the ice, but he was physically strong and a fairly good skater despite his lack of speed and finesse.

Quinn sneered at Eric several times in the beginning of the game, but when he failed to get any reaction he moved on to harassing Eric's players instead. It was an expected move and the team was ready for him. They avoided him when they could and absorbed his minor collisions without complaint when they couldn't.

He was playing defense and was supposed to be covering the right side of the ice, though he tended to wander from strictly defensive positions when pursuing opposing players. He rarely took the trouble to consider puck possession as a factor when deciding whom to slam into next.

By the end of the first period Quinn had racked up quite a string of minor infractions including elbowing, holding, hooking and an assortment of various forms of checking. There were at least seven in all, but Eric noted only two were on the official penalty list; hooking and a board check a little too blatant to be overlooked. Felipe had likely appealed to the officials' purses to have them cut his new player some slack.

Eric turned to look up to where Sookie was seated. She smiled to indicate all was well and he returned his attention to the ice.

There were no goals for either team in the first period. The teams were well matched, with only Quinn's presence as a wild card. Eric was satisfied with his team's ability to protect their net. Now they needed to score and they would have to go through Quinn to do it. It was almost like having to get around two goalies.

The Oklahoma players had been feeling their way around Quinn, pushing and testing him for weaknesses, but the reverse was also true. While Eric's men poked, prodded and searched for the tiger's Achilles Heel, Quinn sized them up to decide which of them he could injure to provoke a reaction from Eric. He'd seen Eric's temper. He only needed to find a way to trigger it. Quinn wanted Eric to come into the cage and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get him here.

The first intermission had barely begun and King Felipe de Castro of Nevada, Arizona and Louisiana was already bored with the lull. He was anxious for the last period to start.

When Camille Champagne went to the ladies room, Sookie moved next to the King. "Is there anything particular you wanted to know about the lady?"

"Does she carry stakes in her handbag?" he asked with a laugh.

"I don't know," Sookie responded, deciding it was better to treat his question as if it were serious. "But I doubt it. She's very impressed to meet you. She's spent most of the night so far wondering what it would be like to be Queen. She went to the bathroom just now so she would be alone to call a friend to brag about being in a building full of vampires."

"Isn't that cute?" Felipe said. It wasn't a question seeking an answer. "It must be very odd, knowing what others of your kind think of you. I'm not at all certain I'd like to know so many answers."

"Your Majesty is wise. I can tell you absolutely, I wish I didn't have so many answers." She got up and returned to her previous seat.

The intermission passed, along with the second period. Quinn zeroed in on Dolph as his preferred target. Dolph narrowly escaped being injured at the end of the second period when Quinn checked him from behind after Dolph made the game's only goal.

During the second intermission, Eric talked to Dolph first. Dolph was not to go onto the ice for the start of the last period. Eric would keep him on the bench despite his protests. "We must make him wait for you," was all Eric would say on the subject.

In fact, he had little to say on any subject during the last intermission. He stood solemnly with his entire team looking to him for guidance and said, "The one goal we have is the only one we need as long as you protect our net. Everything I have seen tonight tells me you can do this. You have proven it to me. Now prove it to yourselves."

That was it. Having made his speech, he stepped away leaving his men to talk in hushed tones amongst themselves. His attention was drawn to the animated discussion going on at the Nevada bench on the other side of the ice. Eric stood by the home side cage door and watched as the opposing manager made blood-curdling threats and yelled at each of his players in turn. Even Quinn did not dare divert his gaze from the screaming vampire.

When the bellowing finally began to subside there was a low crash of metal on metal from the Oklahoma side of the cage. Quinn's head spun round so fast he looked as though his neck might snap. Eric had one of his players on a leash and was turning a key in the lock of the door. His lips tilted up into the slightest hint of a smile. He had come onto the ice and Quinn had missed it. Eric handed the leash to an assistant without explanation and instructed the man be led back to his cell.

By the time the third period buzzer sounded two minutes later, Quinn had worked himself into a raging fury at his wasted opportunity.

Nevada came at them like a summer storm, but their defense held. One attempted slap shot came close, but the goalie deflected it in time. When Quinn committed his first infraction, tripping Oklahoma's right wing into the boards, Dolph jumped up and stared pleadingly at Eric.

"Soon," Eric promised softly as he glanced up at the game clock. They were only three minutes into the period. He didn't want to put Dolph in until at least seven if his team could hold it together without him for four more minutes.

Another push for a Nevada goal attempt and another block. Tempers on the ice were heating up. Two wolves made brief appearances, drawing approving cheers from the crowd. Once the shifting started it rarely stopped. The game almost always devolved to a point where any further scoring was impossible. Nevada was still behind by one goal. Their manager had only one option … "Cool 'em down!" he roared.

In Felipe's box, Sookie excused herself to go to the bathroom. She exited out the back of the box. "So I don't distract anyone," she said with a sweet smile.

"But you will miss the best part," Felipe objected, his eyes never leaving the ice.

"I won't be a minute. I promise."

The secretary Eric had seen in the suite earlier accompanied Sookie to the bathroom and stood ready to return her when she was through.

The game officials looked to Eric and he nodded his accession. Within seconds, spaces in the floor on each side of the cage opened and the fan platforms came up, already blowing full power. The noticeable drop in temperature was immediate, as was Quinn's reaction.

His bewilderment grew as he looked first in one direction, then the next so quickly he appeared to be convulsing. He ran toward what he thought was Sookie coming close to the cage, but as he approached, he was assailed by a blast of cold air carrying another scent. While the temperature drop had encouraged everyone else on the ice back into their human forms, the massive tiger made his first appearance of the evening. Ignoring the wind, he pounced directly toward the fan, crashing into the cage headfirst.

"Enough!" one of the officials called and the great fans sank back into the floor.

Quinn shifted back and groped for his clothes, but someone had already cleared them off the ice. Through the ringing in his head, he heard someone yelling for him to get to the bench to get his skates on. No one yelled for him to get his clothes on, though they too were on the bench when he got there.

Quinn reached for his jeans but a teammate stopped him. "No time for that. Get your skates on and get back out there." A guy knelt in front of him to help. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped no one in the audience was taking pictures. From the wrong angle this could look like –

There he was! That small fry center he smacked with his stick earlier was heading out onto the ice. _The fool probably thinks that little bump into the cage knocked me out of the game._

With no more thought to his clothes or how it looked to have another man helping him, he got his skates laced in record time and plowed back to the ice, a thin trickle of blood dripping down the side of his head. The crowd went insane. Quinn felt like a conquering hero. He waved to his new found fans as he took his position and moved into play. There were less than nine minutes left on the game clock.

Every time Dolph got the puck, he passed it away almost instantly. Quinn took it to mean Dolph was afraid of being attacked again.

Since all roads the puck took inevitably led to Dolph, Quinn kept his eyes on the puck. It paid off.

The Oklahoma right defenseman stripped the puck and was looking to pass it away quick. He would pass to Dolph. He always did. This was Quinn's chance.

Dolph was near the boards. He was positioned perfectly. Quinn angled toward Dolph as fast as he could. The right defenseman was in his backswing. The right wing was suddenly skating across the ice toward Dolph. Quinn paid no attention to him. The wing was the faster skater, but it didn't matter, Quinn had a much shorter distance to cover.

The defenseman's stick sent the puck sailing into what was becoming a top speed, three-way collision course. Vampires around the arena craned their necks to improve their view. From the sideline, Eric calculated the angles.

With the puck only feet away from Dolph, Quinn lifted his stick into both hands and lunged at Dolph without slowing at all. Rather than dodge, Dolph dropped and shifted. He was Canadian, a Vancouver Island Wolf; a breed a good deal smaller than the grays common to the United States.

Quinn was targeting too high. He flew over Dolph and into the top of the boards. His stick wedged between where the board ended and the cage began. He flipped up against the cage, as if he'd tried to pole vault over the board. The stick broke in two, impaling him in the shoulder as he fell back to the ice.

One of Dolph's back paws slipped on the ice preventing him from getting away before Quinn fell. One of Quinn's legs landed across the wolf's left hind leg causing him to begin yelping as he worked to drag himself away.

In the mean time, the puck bounced off the wall and the right wing was there to recover it, just as planned. Though more players were waiting for Quinn to move than watching the wing, it was a beautiful goal shot, even if it was disallowed later.

Dolph shifted back to his human form and was assisted to the bench. The officials climbed down from their seats to closer investigate. Quinn still had not moved and a growing pool of blood surrounded him.


	3. Chapter 3

To my beta and source of encouragement for this story, the lovely NorthmanMaille, I am ever indebted.

As always, I am grateful for the generosity of Charlaine Harris, who allows us to check out characters from her library and play with them for a while.

_**The Cross Check Cage**_

_**Chapter 3**_

Sookie returned to Felipe's viewing box just as pandemonium was breaking out on the ice. "What happened?" she asked. She didn't have to fake the alarm in her voice.

Camille Champagne was leaning forward in her seat, her fake fingernails bending at unnatural angles against the upholstered arm rests. "Is there always this much action?" she asked breathlessly. "Is the tiger guy dead? There sure is an awful lot of blood!"

The naked man face down in the pool of blood on the ice was definitely Quinn, but if he was dead, something had gone very wrong. She saw Eric standing outside the cage patiently waiting as the officials climbed down from their seats. He didn't feel worried. That was good. Not so good was the Nevada manager screaming for someone to drag Quinn's body away and be prepared for a double substitution as soon as the officials declared him dead. Two players, grinning like fools, slithered off the Nevada bench and headed onto the ice.

Felipe began to laugh. It was a blood curdling, sinister sound. Eric was right. Quinn was nothing more than a sacrifice to the King's petty manipulations. She wished she could scratch his eyes out.

The crowd was growing louder and more annoyed with the delay by the second. Sookie looked out at the commotion on the ice. If only she'd paid more attention to the few past games she'd seen or listened more closely when Eric was explaining the rules to her. Something down there was not right, but she couldn't place what it was.

She closed her eyes and sought out the minds of other humans who accompanied vampires to the arena tonight. Quinn was not yet declared dead, so the game was not officially stopped. No whistle was blown, yet the players stopped. Some people were assuming Oklahoma would be charged with killing a player even if the player wasn't completely dead, since he was clearly rendered useless, even though it seemed to be his own fault. If he were conscious, he and thus his team would take the penalty. If he were conscious …

Sookie cast through the crush of shifters, weres and humans, searching for Quinn. When she found him, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was impossible to tell if the problem was the normal difficulty of reading the two natured or if the scrambling was due to his injuries, but at this moment it didn't much matter. He was alive and he was thinking, so he had to be at least partially conscious. She needed him awake, now.

"Eric, what have you done?" she said in worried tone, loud enough for even the humans seated near the box to hear. Then she screamed. No words accompanied the resonating burst of sound; it was only an earsplitting shriek, immediately followed by her shriveling into a heap on the floor.

The most difficult thing about pretending to faint is _not_ reacting to the hubbub it causes. In Sookie's case, it was keeping a smile off her face when she saw Quinn's mind come into focus when he recognized her voice and concern for her brought him out of his haze. Most of the attention she garnered quickly shifted back to the ice when he made an obvious attempt to pull himself up off the ice.

Of course, Quinn's were not the only thoughts which came to focus exclusively on Sookie when she screamed. Within seconds, Eric had shoved the small crowd around her out of his way and was kneeling at her side, paying no heed to the ice.

"Eric?" Sookie questioned in a weak voice, trusting in the bond between them to provide the necessary communication.

She was a constant wonder to him. He looked forward to hearing her explanation for this exquisitely executed diversion almost as much as he did the sex they would have upon returning to Bon Temps. Cradling her head in his hand, Eric gently lifted her into a sitting position. "She is unharmed," he said, looking up as if he believed her well being really mattered to anyone else in the box. He made eye contact with Felipe. "May I leave her in your care, my King? I must return to the cage."

"Of course, of course, go," Felipe said without hesitation. Feigning interest was one of his better-developed specialties.

As fast as he arrived, Eric was gone again, back to the bedlam around the cage, which was threatening to break into a riot.

When Quinn lifted his head, the Oklahoma fans began hurling accusations of intentional game delays and attempting to get an illegal double substitution at Nevada. These were both serious team infractions, which could result in penalties up to game forfeiture if called by the officials. The Nevada fans vehemently defended their team in spite of the growing evidence on the ice. Quinn was now trying to sit up and the two teammates who came onto the ice to retrieve what they thought was his corpse were standing in place, wondering what to do now.

A loud whistle split the commotion and finally stopped the game clock. There were less than five minutes remaining. "Delay of game, Nevada!" one official yelled as he climbed back to his chair. "Too many players on the ice, Nevada!" chimed the other.

Each call brought angry shouts from Nevada fans and jubilant cheers from the home crowd.

One of the referees handed a paper up to the first official. "Major boarding, Nevada! Player Quinn will be removed from the cage for the remainder of the game and may not be substituted for three minutes!" the official announced.

"This is an outrage!" the Nevada manager screamed. "My man was nearly killed and you give the power play to our opponents!"

"Not nearly enough!" the official on the Nevada side of the cage scolded. "His apparent suicide attempt has caused enough trouble. You have ten seconds to get him off the ice or face a forfeit."

Everything happened with amazing efficiency then. The Nevada manager seethed as Quinn was carried away and the game continued while fans from both sides argued furiously about their perception of what transpired. This game would be much discussed for a long time to come.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Queen Freyda was radiant at the winner's reception. She couldn't have been happier with tonight's outcome. A 2-0 final score was so much more than she'd hoped. Her fears over her negotiated settlement with Eric Northman faded. As promised, where questions of ice cage tournaments were concerned, his loyalty was with his team, not his King.

_His King_. Freyda had difficulty holding her composure every time she thought about how Felipe trembled with anger as he bowed to her and conceded his loss at the close of the game. How delicious it was. The taste lingered with her through the night as she welcomed her guests and basked in their praise and congratulations.

Freyda's star shone brightest at her reception, until the Norseman strolled into the ballroom with his human dangling from his arm. He moved with such a confident ease it was hard for Freyda not to imagine what a pretty picture his entrance would have made if it were her standing in place of that blonde human.

_Ridiculous_, she scoffed to herself. _I made a bargain and it was a good one. I will not lower myself to having childish jealousies over who makes a more photogenic grand entrance_. She turned her attention to an envoy visiting from Europe, pushing thoughts of her gorgeous team manager from her head.

Sookie looked around the room. There were probably at least two hundred people here. It would take a while to do an acceptable amount of mingling, in addition to accomplishing their other set goal for the evening, and it was already late.

Even though Eric came for her immediately after the buzzer ending the game, it took longer than expected for them to get away from the King of Nevada's viewing box. They were obliged to witness a royal hissy fit first. Felipe was livid over how the game went down.

Sookie assumed his temper was made worse by his inability to rant about why he was actually so angry without admitting what his true plans for the evening had been. She was grateful when they were finally allowed to leave, even if it was only to jump from Felipe's frying pan into Freyda's fire.

Sookie tried to dismiss thoughts of vampire monarchs and focus on her assigned task. She enjoyed having a purpose other than serving as Eric's arm ornament. Eric wanted to reward Dolph for his hard work by arranging a visit with a woman. He asked Sookie to see if she could find out if there was a particular woman who should be contacted. Everybody wanted her to read weres lately.

The Oklahoma cage team was seated at a square formation of tables in the center of the room. The lavish feast set out before them was being continually replenished by a small army of scantily clad serving girls. It was all very Roman in appearance. _No wonder Appius liked Freyda so much_, Sookie thought. _She probably reminded him of home._

Eric offered polite greetings and graciously accepted the flattery and congratulations of other guests as he led Sookie through the throngs to where the team was on display.

When they arrived, he made a production of introducing her to each individual player. She wished she'd paid closer attention to the game so she might have been able to make more specific comments on their actions. As it was, she smiled and tried to think of as many variations of 'I'm glad you won' as she could. The tedious process went on for what seemed forever, but eventually they worked their way through the others and got to Dolph. He stood, nodding an acknowledgement to Eric and turning to face Sookie.

"This is our team captain, Dolph Crassodon. You may have noticed him during the game. He was the one yelping from under the tiger."

"Hey! He fell on my leg!" Dolph cried out in his own defense.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Excuses. Dolph, this is my wife, Sookie."

Dolph nodded and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Northman. I hope you enjoyed the game."

She felt no need to confuse the situation by correcting the name error. She noticed Eric didn't either. "Ice games aren't really my cup of tea. I don't skate, but I'm happy to meet you." She took his hand to shake and was immediately struck by the images her words caused to pop into his head.

There was another woman who didn't skate. His wife? No, his girlfriend: a pretty Asian girl. He met her at an ice rink. She was there to watch a friend take lessons. She smiled and laughed as Dolph showed off for her. He missed her terribly.

"I'm so glad you won," Sookie said, releasing his hand.

She could see thoughts of the Asian girl stuck in his head now. He was so focused on his memories of her; he was broadcasting crystal clear images. The girl doesn't skate because there's something wrong with her feet. She wears special shoes.

"You don't have to enjoy the ice cage games to enjoy the ice," Dolph said, "and anyone can learn to skate."

What a friendly personality Dolph had; such a natural flirt. This last fact was not lost on Eric, who Sookie could tell without looking, was not going to be willing to tolerate Dolph's friendliness for much longer.

_He shouldn't ask me to read people if he's going to be such a baby about it when I talk to them_, she thought with more than a little irritation. She slipped an arm around his waist and hugged until she felt him relax.

Dolph was remembering asking the girl for a pair of her shoes.

"I don't know of an ice rink near where I live, but if I hear of one I just might have to get a pair of skates and give it a try." Sookie was trying to keep the conversation as natural sounding as possible and keep him thinking about his girlfriend at the same time. Eric wanted the girl's name.

In his mind, Dolph was walking into that same ice rink. His skates had the laces tied together and they were slung over his shoulder. He was carrying a box. The girl was waiting for him and her smile was stunning when she saw him.

_She's in love with him_, Sookie thought.

Dolph handed the box to the girl. It was a gift. She opened it and stared at the contents with confusion. Skates.

"I had the boot maker for the team make them for you. That's why I needed a pair of your shoes. If I'm going to teach you to skate, you need well fitted skates to keep you stable," he said to the girl, his excitement was clear. When the girl tilted her face to look up at him, her eyes were glistening.

"Don't cry, Tóu Láng! I won't let you fall. Not ever. I promise." He had mistaken the reason for her tears.

"Oh, that's so sweet," Sookie said aloud before she was able to catch herself. When she looked up, both Dolph and Eric were gaping at her as if she'd suddenly turned into a mermaid and started flopping around on the floor.

"W-what?" Dolph stammered.

She swept a quick glance around the room. She smiled and pointed discreetly toward the Queen. "Why are you two looking at me? Look at her. Isn't it cute? I didn't know she liked cats."

Freyda was lounging on a red settee stroking the back of a mountain lion, which sat placidly beside her.

"That's Cameron," Dolph said. The friendliness in his voice replaced with a note of suspicion she was all too familiar with. He was wondering if Sookie had really commented on the cat or if she was somehow reading his mind.

"Who's Cameron?" she asked in a tone as innocent as she could manage.

"The man I removed from the ice during the last intermission," Eric answered. "He has a regal look about him. Her Majesty often calls him to sit at her side."

The Queen looked up from the conversation she was having with a group of visiting vampires. She gave Sookie a cool stare. "You are admiring my kitten, I see." Her hand rested on the crown of Cameron's head and he purred loudly as he rubbed against it, his yellow eyes following Sookie's every movement. "I'll thank you to enjoy him from a distance._ His_ presence at court is _not_ negotiable."

It was difficult to say if it was Sookie or Eric the barbs in her words were intended to sting, but they garnered the attention of most in the immediate area of the Queen. The others tried to appear disinterested as they waited to see if the challenge was met and the situation escalated.

Eric let the arm draped across Sookie's shoulders drop until his hand caught hers, his firm grip directing her to remain in her position as he took a step forward. He let loose a jovial laugh and offered a courteous bow. "Congratulations, Your Majesty! No doubt tonight's victory accounts for your good humor."

"No doubt," she snapped. "Pray tell, what accounts for yours? Surely you can share what amuses you so?"

"Nothing more than a random reflection unworthy of the dignity of Your Majesty or your court," he responded, with a grin so shrewd it would have tempted a goddess to demand its meaning.

"I'm sure you have no greater appreciation for base humor than the rest of us here," Freyda said, gesturing to those watching the exchange. "Allow us to partake of your diversion."

Sookie glanced up at Eric's face and held her breath. The wattage of his smile was blinding. He was enjoying this way too much.

"I am subject to the commands of the Queen," he said, looking around at the gawkers as if he were pleading his case to a jury. "At the risk of incurring the wrath of all the women in my life, I have no choice but to obey." He tightened his grip on Sookie's hand behind him and stared directly into Freyda's eyes. "I thought to reinforce Your Majesty's instructions to my wife, to enjoy the mountain lion from a distance, by forbidding her from violating the sanctity of your pussy."

The vampires burst into uproarious laughter. Everyone else in the room joined Sookie in holding their breath. Eric's gaze never faltered. He made it quite clear, entertainment was definitely not a service he was contracted to provide for her. If she was going to demand it of him, she did so at her own risk.

Freyda forced a wide smile and applauded, bringing her hands together in slow, dainty claps. She nodded to acknowledge her appreciation and he returned the gesture with an exaggerated bow.

"I'm told Anubis has a plane waiting for you at the airport," she said as she sank back into the settee and resumed stroking Cameron's back. "Several of my guests would like to meet you before you leave. I trust you will not disappoint them."

"As you wish," he replied.

She turned her attention to the guest at her left and the interview was over.

There was a collective resumption of breathing among the non-vampires. The danger passed and the celebration continued. Those disappointed by the shortage of carnage in the Queen's festivities gradually made their way to Felipe's reception, where their appetites were more likely to find release.

When Eric had made polite conversation with all of Freyda's guests, he and Sookie slipped out a side door and left for the airport.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

A light kicked on in the hallway outside his cell and though it wasn't very bright, its sudden appearance caused Alcide to squint and raise his hands to shield his eyes. Seconds later he heard a door open, followed closely by scents of food, and vampire.

A vamp, who looked to have been around thirty when he was turned, arrived in front of the cell carrying a tray. He placed it beside him on the floor and stood, staring into the cell at Alcide. After several mute moments passed the vamp grinned.

"I guess you ain't the chatty type. That's good. I don't like the chatty ones," the vamp hissed. It was his favorite opening line to new prisoners. They never knew how to respond to it. If they were being quiet as some form of protest, to show how tough and stubborn they were, it made them rethink things. Since he said he liked quiet, they didn't want to do what he liked. Then again, if they were being quiet because they were scared and actually had a million questions, it made them keep their damned questions to themselves until they found someone else to bother with them.

Alcide didn't give the vampire a verbal response. Ignoring his nakedness, he opted instead to simply stand up. He'd been lying on the bunk mounted from the far wall of the cell. He swung his legs around and raised himself up to his full six foot five height. He assumed a posture similar to a military at ease stance, with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. He faced forward, making a point of neither staring at, nor looking away from the vampire.

"They said you were a big one," the vamp said. "I guess they were right. I bet all the bitches in the pack circle around trying to mate for life with you, eh? Or maybe you're more of a lone wolf, keeping it all to yourself?"

Try as he might to resist reacting, Alcide felt his jaw clench.

Even with the dim lighting the vampire didn't miss it. He snorted a scoff and shook his head. It wasn't even a challenge any more. He needed another job. "Yeah, whatever, Big Guy. Let's go through the intro."

The vamp stood perfectly still as he spoke. Only his lower jaw moved. It was damned creepy looking and another of his little amusements to keep the prisoners on edge.

"My name is Danny. You can tell me your name or not. I don't really give a shit. If you don't want to give me a name to call you, we'll just stick with Big Guy. It seems to suit you."

Danny paused and Alcide said nothing.

"Big Guy it is then," Danny said without sounding as if he either approved or disapproved of Alcide's decision not to speak yet. He truly didn't give a shit.

"Five nights ago you were caught poaching local wildlife within the confines of the sovereign Kingdom of Colorado." Danny paused again to deal with the time issue. It always shocked them and Big Guy was no exception. For the first time he was making eye contact.

"That's right, I said five nights ago. The last time you saw a clock it was Sunday. If I handed you a watch right now, you'd be looking at Friday night, about fifteen minutes before midnight.

"You were knocked out with a big game tranquilizer dart. The shooters aim for the hip, but sometimes they're off a little one way or the other. Whatever part of you is sorest is where you were darted. It should stop hurting by tomorrow. After being knocked out, you were brought here and kept on an anesthetic IV drip for seventy-two hours. The purpose of this was not to get you hooked on drugs. We are vampires, not drug dealers.

"The purpose was to weaken you so this first phase of your stay with us goes easier for you. We want to keep you healthy. Fighting results in damage and believe me when I tell you, if we fight you'll come out of it a lot more damaged than I will. You have not had any food for five days. You are a lot weaker than you feel. You're free to not trust anything I've said, but you've been warned. The moral of the story is, don't fight and you stay healthy. It's just that easy while you're training.

"Now even though you're a Silent Sally, I know you're wondering what I mean by training." Danny bent over and flipped up a tile on the floor, exposing a compartment beneath. He reached in and pulled out a set of wrist manacles connected to a chain. "If you will cooperate by putting your hands through the two bars of your choice, I'll give you this pretty set of bracelets and you can sit back down. Then I'll bring in the tray on the floor there and while you're eating I'll open the watch window in the wall so you can see what kind of training you'll be doing."

Alcide briefly considered his options and realized he really didn't have any at this point. Even if he was able to overtake this vamp, other than somewhere in Colorado, he had no idea where he was. For all he knew, he could be five levels underground. He stepped to the bars and stuck his hands through.

Danny did exactly as he said he would, no deviations from the plan. He even showed Alcide how to access the hidden switch to open the watch window. The window was four by six feet and offered a view of a regulation hockey rink covered by a silver dome. There was a game in progress. "Colorado vs. New York," Danny said.

Alcide slid his food tray onto the bed beside him and stood up to get a better look. When he did, the chain connected to his wrists was pulled tight, preventing him from standing fully upright.

"Not yet, Big Guy," Danny said. "Go on and finish eating. You can stare all you want when I've gone."

Alcide resumed his place on the bed and dragged the tray back onto his lap. He looked down at the tray and wondered if this was some kind of special welcome to hell meal or if he could look forward to eating this well every day. There was a whole roasted chicken, a slab of beef. There was also a bowl of cooked mixed vegetables and a whole grain baguette.

"I'll bring you a bag of fresh fruit and veg sometime before morning. You'll get a tray similar to this one once a night. As you might imagine, there is no room service during daylight hours." Danny laughed at his own joke and seemed disappointed when Alcide didn't join in. "Any questions that won't keep until I come back?"

"Why am I here?" Alcide asked without looking up and keeping his tone as even as possible.

"You're a convicted poacher. You were sentenced to three years in prison. His Majesty King Nathan Conrad-Parson commuted your sentence to twenty-six games in the ice cage. How long that takes will depend on how long you take to train and whether or not the Colorado team wins and makes it into the playoffs. Of course if the team doesn't win you might make it out a lot sooner, if you don't mind leaving in a box."

Danny exited the cell and locked it behind him. He motioned for Alcide to come to the bars. Alcide came to the bars and put his hands through. Danny removed the manacles. He started to walk away, then paused and looked toward Alcide again. "How's the food?"

"The beef is over cooked."

"I'll tell the cook," Danny said, and he was gone, leaving Alcide alone with his thoughts.

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Sookie waved to Terry through the order window as she passed by on her way to the dining area. Sam was wiping down the bar as she rounded the corner with her hands behind her back straightening the bow in her apron strings.

"Hey Sam, anything I need to know before I get started?"

Sam looked up from his cleaning and couldn't help but grin. Sookie was picture perfect; wearing her hair tied up in a high bouncy ponytail and her standard '_we're having a great day here at Merlotte's' _smile. He felt a little pang of sadness as he thought about the possibility of not being able to call her in to cover for someone every now and then. One of these days that vampire of hers would ask her to leave and –

"Don't go there, Sam," Sookie warned, but the smile was still in place.

Sam pointed in her direction and said, "I'm gonna start wearing an aluminum lined ball cap around you, girl."

She gave him and exasperated look and slapped her hand on the bar. "Please try to keep your superstitions and cult nonsense straight, if you don't mind. Aluminum is to protect you from aliens, not waitresses." She turned on her heel and headed out to check the condiments on the tables. "I expected more from you, Sam," she called over her shoulder as she went.

The lunch crowd filtered in a few minutes later so Sookie and Sam didn't have much chance to talk until Holly got there a couple of hours later. Holly thanked her again for coming in to cover on such short notice. Sookie hugged her and said she was happy to do it.

When Sookie slipped into Sam's office he was sitting at his desk and just hanging up the phone with Jannalynn.

"Any news from the trackers?" Sookie asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Nothing," he answered, releasing a heavy sigh and dropping his head into his hands. "Jannalynn has sent two dozen people to scour the whole area and no one has found a single trace of Alcide anywhere other than exactly where Vicki said he was. It's almost too perfect."

"What do you mean?"

Sam looked up at her. "I know this sounds crazy, but it's almost like Vicki went up there and laid down a trail of scent for the trackers to follow; like maybe Alcide was never there at all."

"You're right," Sookie agreed. "It sounds crazy. Alcide was with Vicki, **all** of him, **not **just his scent. I saw him."

"And you're sure Vicki couldn't trick you?"

"This is Jannalynn talking now Sam. No! Vicki did not trick me. She was in Colorado **with** Alcide. You can trust me on that." Sookie pulled off her apron and stuffed it into a laundry bag.

"You saying I shouldn't trust Jannalynn?"

"No, of course not. When she's sure of something, when she knows, trust her. When she's angry and suspicious, by all means be supportive and try to help her figure out if she's right, but don't take it as gospel truth just because she can't think of anything else for it to be. There could be things going on she doesn't know anything about. Things she's never heard of before." She opened the side drawer of his desk and retrieved her purse.

Sam's eyes narrowed as they focused on Sookie. "Now you're sounding like maybe you know more than you're letting on," he said, leaning back in his chair.

She was getting annoyed with the tone of their conversation. "The only thing I know is Alcide was in Colorado with Vicki and she doesn't know what happened to him. I'm not Jannalynn. I'm not going to cram your head full of my half-baked suspicions until I know something for certain to tell you." She flipped her hair and flounced out of the office.

By the time she got home she'd gotten over her irritation with Sam. The poor guy was between a rock and a hard place with her and Jannalynn. It had to suck to be him in this situation, but she didn't have the time or the energy to feel sorry for Sam right now. She had too many of her own balls in the air and all this juggling was about to wear her out.

She found herself wishing Bill wasn't a vampire so she could go to see him before Eric was back in Oklahoma on Monday. But then if he wasn't a vampire there was no way he'd have the information she needed, so it was a catch twenty-two either way. It would have to wait.

She poured a glass of iced tea and sat down at the computer to see if she could find any information about Dolph's girlfriend. She had a name now, sort of. She heard Dolph say the girl's name, but she wasn't sure she was saying it properly when she repeated it for Eric. On top of that, if Dolph hadn't pronounced it right when she heard it, well, then she wouldn't be anywhere near it.

Eric told her Dolph was from the Vancouver area and he knew there were a lot of Chinese immigrants there, so there was a good chance the girl was Chinese. Unfortunately, Eric didn't speak any of the Chinese dialects so he was no help in determining anything from the probably wrong pronunciation of her name. It sounded like Tow Ling or Two Ling or Leng or something like that.

_Needle, meet haystack_ she thought as she pushed the power button on her computer and waited for it to boot up. She had no clue where to look. Just to be doing something other than staring at the screen, once she was online she googled 'mystery asian girls in vancouver'. To her surprise, she got over five million results. None of them, or at least none of the ones on the first page, were any use, but the results were so varied it was clear there were a lot of Asian girls in the Vancouver area. This was going to be impossible, but she promised Eric, so she had to try.

She looked up Dolph Crassodon and found numerous articles mentioning him. They were mostly about the team he played for and he was only listed on roster and stat charts. The few she found dealing with him personally were all local orphaned boy makes good type things and none mentioned a wife or girlfriend.

She slumped back and glanced up at the clock. She'd been reading basically the same information in different articles for more than two hours now. "Okay Sookie, think," she said. "You have a name, but you're not sure how to say it, let alone spell it, and you think it might be Chinese. What do you do?"

After a minute she had an idea. She opened two windows. In the first one she did a search for Chinese baby names. In the second one she searched for a Chinese translator and found one with the ability to say the words for you. Seeing the literal translation of the names probably wouldn't help her, but hearing them spoken was exactly what she needed.

She'd give this a shot for an hour or so, but no more today. She was determined to have a nice long soak in a hot tub before time for Eric to get up. If she couldn't find anything today, at least she'd have a starting point for in the morning.

An hour and twenty minutes later Sookie hung her terrycloth bathrobe on the hook behind the bathroom door and walked back to the tub. She took in a deep breath. The air was hot and thick with steam. She could feel her body relaxing even before she stepped into the tub and the instant her toes touched the water she felt a wave of gooseflesh wash over her. She sank quickly into the tub, submerging all but her head into the cocoonlike warmth of the bath.

She thought of Eric and how she loved showering or even just soaking in the tub with him. It was the heat. When he was drenched with warm water, his skin temporarily felt warm. She'd gotten used to the cool feel of vampire flesh, even grown to love it, but via their joint showers she realized there was nothing like being pressed against the body of someone you loved when their heat rivaled your own and you could watch the steam was rising off them. It was like watching their passion physically manifest and impact the world around it.

This wouldn't do. She had to stop thinking about wet Eric or she'd never get her hair washed. She could get him into the shower after he got up for the night. He'd never been one to refuse a shower, especially if he could get more than clean. She giggled to herself and reached for the shampoo.

A few minutes later as she was rinsing and watching streams of suds flow off the ends of her hair and swirl around the drain, she heard the door.

"I was waiting for you," she whispered as she reached to turn the shower off so they could soak together, but in a flash he was standing next to her.

His hand took hers from the handle and lifted it to his lips. "Let it rain," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.

The sweet taste of his tongue drew her up onto her tiptoes as his hands slid down her back until they were below her butt. He lifted her as if she were nothing more than a soap bubble until her face was in line with his. She threw her head back and clung to him as he devoured her, his lips inching their way down her neck searching for the most succulent spot. When they found it she felt his fangs drop and pierce her skin, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he drank deep.

"Sookie."

His voice called to her through the steam. He was right next to her, but he sounded so far away.

"Sookie," he repeated.

The sound was closer this time. She felt his hand cup her breast and lightly pinch the nipple.

"You have started without me, my lover, and while watching you is an intriguing pursuit, I much prefer to participate."

"W-what?" she sputtered as she opened her eyes and splashed water onto the floor with her sudden movements. She could feel herself turning bright red from embarrassment.

He was sitting, naked, on the side of the tub laughing at her. Well, at least most of him was sitting, all except the part standing at attention.

"I was …"

"Yes lover, I know what you were doing. Now, if you will be good enough to tell me where we left off, I think I can catch up."

~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~ xxxx ~~~~

Tóu Láng sat, as she did every evening at moonrise, in the quiet beauty of her mother's well-kept garden and offered prayers to any gods who may be listening. She prayed for the fear and sadness in her heart to be relieved. She prayed for her parents, who worried so about their eldest child. She prayed for the sick and the poor in her community. Then her prayers began in earnest as she pleaded to be heard and granted intercession on behalf of her beloved.

"Dolph is a good man," she said to the sky. "He was always good to me and I still believe he loved me, no matter what anyone else thinks. He wouldn't have left me without saying goodbye. Please, hear my prayer tonight and keep him safe, so he can find his way back to me."

She felt a small hand come to rest on her shoulder and looked back to find her mother standing behind her. "All prayers are heard, Tóu Láng, and all are answered."

Tóu Láng covered her mother's hand with her own and squeezed gently. "I hope so, Mama." She managed a frail smile. "But it's been so long."

Fei Yen lowered herself to the grass and sat beside her eldest daughter. She looked up into the clear, late summer sky and said, "Sometimes the answer is not the one we are listening for."

Tóu Láng wrapped her arms around herself and looked away, not wanting to meet her mother's eyes as she spoke. "If he never comes back, it will answer Bà ba's prayers," she said bitterly.

"Your father loves you and it causes him great pain to see you grieving like a widow for more than a year now."

"I feel like a widow," Tóu Lang said, still staring down at the colorful blossoms fallen from the gummy gooseberry shrub. "There is an emptiness in me and it casts a shadow over everything. It's as though nothing will ever be clear or bright again. Yet somewhere in the darkness I can feel his heart beating with mine." She turned back to face her mother. "He's trying to come back to me. I know it. I can't give up on him."

Fei Yen smiled and touched her daughter's cheek before standing. "Yes. As long as your belief is so strong, you must hope. I will add my hope to yours."

And with that, Fei Yen returned to the house. Again tonight, as he did every night, her husband would ask if their daughter was still mourning the unworthy man who ran away from her. Again Fei Yen would reply, "Yes. Give her time. It is too cruel to force her to see the truth before she is ready to accept it."

Tonight Fei Yen felt much older than her forty-five years. She reflected back on the decades of her life and it seemed she was looking through centuries. So many lifetimes had passed since she was a young girl in China's Hunan province. Industry and growth were all around her. It was an exciting time, but her parents worried and she didn't understand why.

Then puberty came and with the following full moon she learned the source of their concern. Her first shift was terrifying for her. Her family's true nature was a closely guarded secret. She hadn't been told.

She did know about the hunting parties formed by the locals, to hunt down the wolves. As the factories expanded, animals were being driven out of the wild lands and closer to the towns and villages. Where the prey went, the predators followed. To this day when Fei Yen saw the full moon, her first thought was the memory of her parents being hunted and killed.

It was while she was still freshly mourning their loss, she first met Péng. He was near-sighted and wore round glasses, which made his eyes appear enormous. He too was a grey wolf who had been orphaned by the hunts. His parents were both killed while he was away learning his profession but if he was bitter, he never let it show. He was kind and, as the mythical bird he was named for, he told her he wanted to fly her away to a far off land where they could roam happy and free forever. She loved him from that moment.

Within the year Huang Fei Yen married Li Péng and true to his word, it wasn't long until he whisked her away and set them on the path for their current life. Despite their love for one another, heartbreak followed them from China to their new home.

They settled in Vancouver, British Columbia. It had the irresistible combination of a large Chinese immigrant population and a surrounding area of seemingly endless miles of pristine and protected forest. Their moonlit runs were breathtaking. Péng had done everything he promised her and more. He took her away from the pain of her old life and gave her a new one, more beautiful than she could have imagined.

Though Péng was also happy with their life, there was a part of his dream still unfulfilled. He dreamed of being a father, of taking his child by the hand and showing them all the wonders of life.

Three times in their first four years together Fei Yen's pregnancies ended in tragedy, twice in miscarriage and the third in the stillbirth of a son. Fei Yen was devastated. She wanted nothing but to join her dead son. She felt herself a failure. Péng had given her a new life and she repaid his gift with death. For months she couldn't bring herself to even meet his gaze when he spoke to her.

At length, it was the tenderness of his voice as he assured her of his love and the strength of his unyielding embraces that revived her will to live. He gave her a new life, again.

By this time Péng had completed his studies and was a licensed optometrist. He worked in a small clinic on Pender Street in Vancouver's Chinatown area. After the stillbirth, he insisted Fei Yen stop working outside their home. She needed more rest, whether they ever had children or not. He also took on additional work making spectacle frames, so he could afford to pay for a woman to help Fei Yen with caring for their apartment.

Fei Yen spent her forth pregnancy in a constant state of terror. Every minute she expected it to be over. So she waited. Every twinge or ache her body felt could be the signal of the beginning of another end. Her sense of foreboding overwhelmed her several times a day and she would be reduced to uncontrollable sobs.

Péng hoped she would be better when her doctor told her she was past the point of worrying about having a miscarriage. '_If any unexpected problems come up now, we can induce labor and everything will likely be just fine_.' She took no comfort from the news. Now she worried the baby would be stillborn.

Her long panic ended in the early morning hours of May 4, 1989. Tóu Láng demonstrated the health of her lungs immediately upon entering the world. Fei Yen could remember the instant relief flooding through her at hearing the sound. Péng had never left her side during the delivery and now he was beaming with a new father's pride as the baby was carried to the other side of the delivery room to be cleaned up, weighed and measured. Nothing in his expression indicated anything was amiss.

Then, through the steady wailing she heard her doctor give instructions for another doctor to be called in for a consult, an orthopedic surgeon. The warm cocoon of solace around her fell apart. She reached for Péng's hand and squeezed hard.

"Do not worry, Fei Yen," he whispered, returning her clasp gently and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "It is only a little problem. I'm sure the doctors will be able to correct it. You can hear, she has only been here a few minutes and already they are planning what to do. Listen to her. She is strong." Péng smiled and nodded as if to say, the decision has been made. The child will be healthy.

A full minute had not passed before Fei Yen forced herself to ask the question she most feared. "What is wrong with her?"

The doctor waved to a nurse, indicating for her to carry the swaddled baby to her mother. As the nurse crossed the room, Péng started to babble about the baby's beauty but was stopped by the doctor patting him on the shoulder and offering an understanding smile.

"Let's not ignore the elephant in the room," the doctor said to Péng. Then shifted his gaze to Fei Yen. "Nothing fatal," he said first so her biggest fear was allayed. When he heard Fei Yen exhale the breath she'd been unconsciously holding, he continued. "It's called Congenital Talipes Equinovaries, or more commonly, club feet.

The nurse laid the baby on Fei Yen's chest and she instinctively lifted the infant in her arms and began to rock to comfort her. One look into the child's large brown eyes was all it took. All the concerns and priorities in her life rearranged themselves to make room at the top of the list for the tiny, six-pound girl with huge lungs and club feet who brought such a happy smile to her father's face and so much love to her mother's heart.

Péng named her Tóu Láng, First Wolf, "Because she is the first of the new line we have started in our new home."

There was happiness in the Li household again. During the day Péng worked, gradually developing his patient base, eventually opening his own practice with a small adjoining optical shop. Fei Yen spent her days with Tóu Láng. They visited neighbors. They played games designed to exercise the muscles in Tóu Láng's feet and stretch her Achilles tendons to keep her ankles as limber as possible. Fei Yen told stories of the Huang and Li families in China while Tóu Láng gurgled, cooed and was adored by everyone who knew her.

Despite three orthopedic surgeries between the ages of one and six, as well as an exhaustive daily exercise regimen, the degree of Tóu Láng's birth defect prevented her feet and ankles from being fully corrected. She walked with a pronounced limp and she couldn't walk very far or up a lot of stairs without resting, but she walked. She walked under her own steam and usually displaying such an infectious smile, there were people who saw her passing, who never noticed anything about her but her face.

Years passed and Tóu Láng grew up, along with Mai, a sister two years younger and a year after her arrival, Shing, the son Péng had longed for, though he never expressed anything but absolute delight in his daughters.

When Tóu Láng was in high school her father bought their current house in Tofino on Vancouver Island and moved his business there. She and her siblings all went to Vancouver Island University in nearby Nanaimo. With her eye on going to medical school, Tóu Láng majored in biology.

It was the middle of her sophomore year when she met Dolph at the ice rink. A year later she kissed him goodbye at the airport and never saw or heard from him again. He was flying to Wichita, Kansas for the funeral of the man who had gotten him into professional hockey. He got on the plane and the plane landed, but no one at the funeral could recall seeing him in Wichita. He just seemed to fall off the Earth.

…


End file.
